


Colossus Returns

by Wizard_of_Ozzie



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV), Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batjokes, Bloodlust, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2019-10-23 12:16:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17683265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wizard_of_Ozzie/pseuds/Wizard_of_Ozzie
Summary: The Joker and Batman need each other to stay alive. This is a hard pill for them to swallow.  Will each man try to exploit the situation for their own benefit? Or will needing each other cause their relationship to evolve?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a “what if” sequel to the Batman comic book series – Batman: Europa #1 - #4.  
> If you already read the comic book series Europa, you can skip these notes. If not, they’ll get you up to speed (spoiler alert).
> 
> In the Europa series, Batman was mysteriously infected with the deadly Colossus virus and had only seven days to find an antidote—or die. The first sign of the virus was reddened fingertips. Then the sickness progressed; sapping his strength, but most critically it was clouding his mind. Making him forgetful and unable to focus. 
> 
> His quest to find a cure led him to Berlin, where he discovered the Joker was also suffering from the Colossus virus and looking for a cure. They realized their chances for survival were better if they worked together. Especially since the virus did not damage the Joker’s mind as much as it did Batman’s. They traveled to Prague and Paris following clues and battling foes as a team. Surprisingly, without killing or maiming each other. And even more surprisingly, saving each other’s lives on more than one occasion. After days and days of searching across Europe and growing progressively weaker, in both mind and body, they arrived in Rome. There, they discovered that Bane was responsible for infecting them with a virus he’d commissioned former Red Army geneticists to create. They also learned that they had the cure all along. 
> 
> All it took was swallowing a few drops of the Joker’s blood to make Batman as good as new. A few drops of Batman’s blood did the same for Joker. Both men, now cured of the Colossus virus, went right back to their typical roles of arch-enemies.

Wayne Manor, six weeks after Batman returns from Rome…  
  
Alfred walked down the long corridor leading to master Bruce's bedroom.  His carriage was erect, his shoulders squared, and chin tilted slightly upward, as he carried the tray of hot coffee and warm croissants toward the door.  
  
"Master Bruce."  He called out, his voice calm but loud enough to be heard on the other side of the closed door. Hearing no response, he hesitated a moment.  Interrupting the master's sleep was not part of his usual protocol.  It was something he only did when necessity dictated, such as an important meeting or other pressing, time-sensitive matter. But he'd made an exception today, because… 

 _Well, because I’m concerned._ Alfred told himself.   _It’s after 6 PM and he’s still in bed!  Master Bruce retired shortly after midnight last night.  True, I’m pleased to see him finally getting some overdue and much-needed sleep, but 18 hours?   He never stays in bed that long, unless he’s injured.  He didn’t look hurt when he came in last night.  A tad peaked perhaps?_

"Master Bruce."  He called out again, his voice louder this time and tinged with unease.  There was no answer and Alfred's vague uneasiness began to grow.  He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned. It was unlocked. _If a lady friend was in there, the door would be locked_. He told himself, as he pushed the door open.  The first thing he noticed was the smell, acrid and sour.  His ears prickled at the sound of ragged, wheezy breathing.  He looked at Master Bruce, naked and sprawled across the king-size bed, his blankets kicked away and the sheets obviously wet with perspiration. He hurried to Bruce's bedside, placing the tray on the nightstand and his hand on the sleeping man's shoulder. Alfred was alarmed by how warm his skin felt.

"Master Bruce."  He pleaded anxiously, nudging Bruce's shoulder harder than he intended.   Bruce replied with a groggy grunt, as his eyes flickered open and met Alfred’s worried face.  Seeing Bruce’s semi-focused, watery eyes only added to Alfred’s anxiety.  “How do you feel, Sir?” Alfred asked, placing a hand on Bruce’s forehead.  Alfred’s brows furrowed at the touch.  “You’re burning up!” Alfred exclaimed, quickly turning away and dashing into the adjoining bathroom.  Bruce watched the man leave; knowing he should get up, but having a hard time summoning the strength to do so. 

“Not feelin’ _< cough cough> _ too great.” Bruce answered hoarsely. The manservant quickly returned, laying a cold face towel on Bruce’s forehead. 

“Please let me take your temperature.” Alfred said, pointing a thermometer at his lips.  Bruce sighed sluggishly and opened his mouth, allowing the thermometer to be placed inside.  A few moments later, two beeps sounded and Alfred looked the thermometer.  “Hmm, 1020 .” Alfred remarked with a sense of relief.  “Definitely a fever, but not dangerously high.  Nothing a bit of rest and plenty of fluids shouldn’t resolve.” Bruce nodded in agreement and sat up with a low groan.  He raised his hand to catch the face cloth, sliding from his forehead.  Alfred gasped, as he saw the tinges of red radiating from Bruce’s fingertips down to their first joint.  “Colossus.” He whispered, his face going pale.

Across town at a long-abandoned factory…

“Hey Mister J, the food’s here.” Jasper, a burly galoot with spiked green hair, shouted; setting half a dozen grease-stained paper bags on a scarred wooden table.  Two other men joined him, grabbing chairs.

“I’m not hungry.” The Joker growled from another room, where he sat at a desk staring at his hands and his bright pink fingertips.  _I wonder how my old friend Batsy is feeling today._   The Joker pondered, as an obscenely wide smile spread across his face.

 

Several hours later in the Batcave…

Bruce stared blankly at the huge computer monitor displaying the results of his blood test.  He wasn’t looking at the words and numbers on the screen.  He didn’t need to; the test was just a meaningless formality.  The results, only a confirmation of what he already knew. The Colossus Virus had returned, and he felt his body crumbling in its clutches.  Despite the deadly diagnosis, or perhaps because of it, his mind was thousands of miles away. 

 _Rome…the taste of blood on my tongue…his blood._ The memory was so vivid; Bruce almost swore he tasted hints of copper in his saliva.  _The way his eyes met mine, as I licked his blood from my lips.  The Joker has looked me in the eye more times than I can count.  Too many times, I have felt myself struggling not to be captured in the intensity of his insane gaze.  But that time was different.  His eyes did not burn with madness…they shined with delight_.  Bruce’s ruminations were cut short, at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Master Bruce.” Alfred said, walking up and standing beside him.  “You need to see this.”  Alfred leaned over and began touching the computer screen and executing commands.  “I recorded this just a few moments ago.” He added, standing up and pointing at the screen.  Bruce’s eyes widened, as the Joker’s face, far larger than life, filled the monitor.

“Welcome Gothamites!” The Joker crooned, his voice a captivating chorus of danger and delight.  “I am interrupting your regularly scheduled programming with a very important message.  This Get Well Wish goes out to my nearest, dearest friend.”

The Joker moved closer to the camera.  His piercing eyes, green as dew-licked grass, growing impossibly large on the Batcave’s massive screen.  Batman stared back.  His gaze transfixed, like a deer in the headlights.

“I know you’re not feeling well but fear not.  I’ve got the rich, red remedy for all that ails you.  I bet you want it so badly you can almost taste it.”  The Joker added, his words humming with sweet promise.  Seizing Bruce with a gut-wrenching mix of nausea and need. “Tonight at 10:00 PM.  Where we shared our very first dance under the shimmer of the full moon’s light.”  The image on the screen dissolved into a sea of white snow, as the recording ended.  Bruce pulled at his hair; his eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared, and jaw clenched. 

“NOOOOOOOOO!” He screamed, pounding his fists on the console.  “This can’t be happening again!”

"Please, Master Bruce.” Alfred pleaded, his words laced with distress.  He laid what he hoped was a comforting hand on Bruce’s shoulder.  “You’ve conquered this before and you’ll do it again.” Bruce’s outburst had lodged a queasy ball at the pit of Alfred stomach.   _Batman does not cringe in the face of danger—he stands tall and strong, ready to confront it._

“It’s different this time, Alfred.” Bruce replied, his head held down and words barely discernible.  _The virus is moving through my system more quickly than it did before._   He realized, as thoughts floated in an out of his head like wisps of smoke. 

 _Our very first dance?_

_His blood on my lips…_

_Under the shimmer of the full moon’s light?_

_The taste on my tongue…_

“Different how?” Alfred asked. 

“Different bad.” Bruce replied, getting up from his chair and walking away.  Alfred’s shoulders slumped, as he watched Bruce depart.  Questions swirled in Alfred’s head, but he held his tongue.  He knew Bruce.  _Sometimes, he just needs to be alone._  

Bruce retreated to the solitude of his private study on the second floor of the mansion.  He flopped down on a large, comfortable arm chair and sighed.  _I need to get my head together.  I need to focus._ He told himself. _Maybe I should go to Arkham.  Talk to Bane.  Make him tell me where to find the geneticists that created the Colossus Virus.  But knowing Bane, he killed them just like he killed everyone else involved in that scheme.  And I’m beginning to doubt I have time to go running around the world trying to track anyone down.  Last time it took several days, after the first symptoms, for my mind to grow cloudy.  This time, it’s hardly been 24 hours.  I need to find the Joker.  That may not be a permanent solution, but it should buy me the time to find one._   Bruce looked down at his fingertips.  The redness had spread down, almost to his middle joint.  He stared vacantly at his hands.  His mind began to flutter through memories, he'd hoped to forget.

_The taste on my tongue…not wholly unpleasant.  But the knowledge of what I was tasting…very, very unpleasant indeed!_

_I swallow, wondering if I can hold it down._

_I’m letting him inside of me—the Joker!  My cheeks balloon for a fraction of a second.  Then I feel it._

_THE RUSH!_

_THE EUPHORIA!_

_Better than well._

_Better than normal._

_Ahh!  Sublime._

_He feels it too._

_“C’mon, let’s have some fun!” the Joker beckons, the sparkle back in his eyes._

_“Yes,”   I reply.  “let’s have some fun!”_

_And the dance begins…_

"The dance!” Bruce shouts aloud.  _Of course, our very first dance…our very first battle!  Outside, under the full moon—the Old Reservoir Bypass!_ Bruce smiled, as his spirits rose.  He bounced up from his chair, barely suppressing an urge to giggle.  He told himself figuring out the Joker’s message was why he felt elated.  _It couldn’t possibly be anticipation?  No, of course not!  That’s ridiculous!_

 

9:58 p.m. The Old Reservoir Bypass…

The Joker stood on the roof of the Bypass System Facility, staring off into the horizon.  The mild wind lending a fashionable tousle to his thick, wavy mop of hair.  He glanced down, picking an errant bit of lint from his otherwise immaculate suit.  This was one of those exceedingly rare times that the Joker wished he wore a watch.  _Is Batsy late?_   He wondered.  _He must be.  I feel like I’ve been standing here for hours._   He’d been there less than 15 minutes.

He glanced at the pole shaped lever that opened the floodgates and let the reservoir flow into the Gotham City water supply.  His fingers itched to grab the lever and pull _._   He wanted to hear the thunderous roar of a tsunami-like wave of water cascading from the dam. _Just for fun!  He He!_   He hadn’t realized his hand was on the lever, until he heard a voice behind him.

“What are you doing?”  Batman yelled, his voice a startled blend of anger and accusation.  The Joker lifted his hand from the pole and casually turned around.

“You shouldn’t have kept me waiting.” The Joker replied with a toss of his head.  “You know how easily I get bored.”

“What are you talking about?  It’s ten o’clock on the dot.”

“Whatever.” The Joker replied with a dismissive flick of his wrist.  He walked over to Batman, purposely crowding his personal space.  He cocked his head to the side.  “How do you want to do this?” The Joker asked brusquely.  Without waiting for an answer, he continued.  “Perhaps a little dance, to get our juices flowing?” His tone now cajoling, as he sported a toothy grin.

“Actually, I was thinking of more clinical approach.” Batman replied, pulling two small, flat, paper-wrapped lancets from his utility belt.  He handed one to Joker.  The Joker snatched it from him, pursing his lips.

“I go first.” The Joker announced, grabbing Batman by the wrist.  Batman snatched his hand back.

“No, we do it together.  We each pull off a glove, hold out our exposed hand, and poke on the count of three.”

“Don’t you mean poke and suck?” The Joker teased.  Batman’s eyes narrowed and he exhaled loudly, glaring at the Joker’s infuriating grin.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“You know there’s a possibility this cure won’t work a second time.” Batman said, pulling off his glove.

“No wonder they call you the _dark night_.  Such a pessimist.” The Joker scoffed, snatching off a glove.  “And I don’t know if we can call this a cure anymore.  It appears to be a treatment, at best.”

“Now who’s being the pessimist.  Maybe this one booster dose is all we need for a cure.”

“You don’t really believe that.” the Joker stated flatly. 

“Yeah, you got me there.” Batman agreed giving the Joker a pat on the bat.  “Do you think Bane planned it this way all along?”

“No, I’m sure Bane planned for both of us to be dead.  He didn’t expect us to work so well together, being arch-enemies and all.  I guess he forgot that misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.”

“Shakespeare was certainly right about that.”

“Did you feel like Shakespeare's Trincula during our travels across Europe together?  Forced to sleep beside a monster to stay alive?” The Joker teased.  Despite the playful lilt to the Joker’s voice, Batman saw genuine curiosity in his eyes.  Discussing feelings with the Joker was the last thing Batman wanted to do.  The thought alone made anger rise in his chest _or_ _was it fear._  Unwilling to pursue that line of thought, Batman ignored the question and grabbed Joker by the wrist.

“Enough talking.  Let’s get this over with.” Batman said gruffly, tearing the wrapping from his lancet with his teeth.  The Joker jerked his arm attempting to free his wrist from Batman’s fierce grip.  But he was unable to get away, the Bat holding him so tightly that he could feel the beat of Joker’s pulse on his bare palm.

“You said we would both hold out our hands!” Joker snarled, as Batman plunged the lancet into his hand. 

“FINE!  NO RULES!” The Joker roared in glee. 

Batman felt the hot slash of the blade before he saw it.  Blood spurted from his hand, as Joker snatched his wrist away.  Like a streak, the Joker zipped across the roof and jumped off the edge.  He landed with a bounce on the net he’d instructed his men to place there.  The Joker hopped from the net and into the waiting getaway car. 

Batman hesitated a moment to stare at the lancet, a thin smear of blood on its tip. He licked it away.  _NOT ENOUGH!_ His mind screamed.  He looked up and saw the Joker running across the roof.  He threw a batarang.  It went high, sailing over the Joker’s shoulder as he jumped.  Batman followed; jumping from the roof and landing in the net, just as the car screeched away.  The Joker sat in the backseat of the speeding car, licking Batman’s blood from his blade.

“Ahhhhh!” The Joker moaned in pleasure; as he closed his eyes, leaned back and melted into the seat. 

“SHIT!” Batman yelled, angry at himself.  _How did I forget the spring-loaded knives he keeps in the sleeves of his suit?  How did I forget how fast he is?_   Realizing self-recriminations won’t catch the Joker, he sprinted to the Batmobile.  Once inside, he quickly wrapped his hand in gauze and winced as he shoved it back into his glove, thankful that the cut was not deep. He pulled up the GPS on his dashboard monitor and prayed the Joker hadn’t ditched the tracker he’d placed on his back.  “YES!” He cheered, seeing the signal moving on the screen.  He zoomed off in pursuit, flooring the accelerator. 

Batman smiled, he was gaining on him.  Although he didn’t have a visual yet, he was steadily drawing closer.  They were heading west, but rather than head west on the same street they were using he decided to use a parallel route.  This would allow him to continue gaining on them, sight unseen.  If he was lucky, he’d be able to get in front of them and cut them off.  Or better yet, they’d reach their destination and get out of their car and he can sneak up on them there.  _Maybe my luck is improving._ He thought, as the tracker indicated their car has stopped.  He continued, speeding toward their destination.  He was nearly as far west as they were, and their car was still not moving.  He began to slow down, as he plotted out the best way to make a surreptitious approach.  _I should wait for them to get out of the car before I approach.  When the tracker starts moving slowly, it means he’s walking away from the car._   Batman continued to drive closer, taking care to stay out of sight.

Batman did not have to wait long before the tracker began slowly moving again.  He parked the Batmobile in an alley behind the street where Joker has stopped.  He got out with a small device that would lead him to the location of the tracker.  Keeping to the shadows, he began a slow cautious approach.  He reached a dilapidated building.  _So, this is where the Joker is hiding.  I expected more, this place is a dump._  He thought, as he scouted out the location for a good entry point.  He didn’t see the car they were driving in.  _Did they drop him off?_  He wondered.  He stayed outside, waiting for lights to come on somewhere within the dark building.  Then he heard a noise _.  There’s someone moving around on the first level._   He silently slipped into the building through a broken window.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” An old woman screamed, at the sight of Batman.  She picked up an empty bottle and threw it at him.  Not bothering to see if it hit him, she ran to the back of the darkened building.  Batman easily dodged the bottle and started looking around.  He saw a shopping cart.  And even in the dim light, shining through the dirty windows, he recognized the purple fabric in the cart.  “DAMN!”  He shouted, lifting the Joker’s suitcoat from the cart.

Around 10 minutes earlier…

As the wave of euphoria subsided, the Joker’s eyes popped open.  His mind felt sharp as a razor and his body tingled with vitality.  He stared at his hands, the fingertips white as driven snow.  Still hunched down in his seat, he scooted up straight.  He heard something when his back slid against the leather upholstery.  It was a tiny sound, but it wasn’t the smooth shush of leather against fabric.  It was a coarser and scratchy.  _Is there something on my back?_   He wondered, then he remembered the unexpected pat on the back Batman had given him.  He quickly pulled off his suitcoat and looked at the back.  _Sly Bat bastard._  The Joker silently sneered, as he spotted the tracker.  He hurriedly looked out of the rear window but saw no sign of the Batmobile.  _Of course, I don’t see him, sneaky little Bats doesn’t want us to know were being tailed_.  He tried to remove the tracker, but it was affixed by a strong adhesive. _Wasn’t bad enough that he tracked me, did he also hafta ruin a perfectly good jacket?_   The Joker hurriedly emptied its pockets, rolled down the window and tossed the jacket from the moving car.

“Jasper, turn left at the next corner.  We’re gonna take a different route back to our spot.” Joker instructed the driver, never looking back at the $2500 blazer lying in a heap on the curb.  But Cassie saw it, as she pushed a shopping cart, holding all her earthly belongings, down the sidewalk.  She made her way over to the suitcoat, looking around for the car that ditched it.  It was nowhere in sight and she picked up the blazer.  A toothless smile split her face, as she looked it over.  She knew quality when she saw it.  There was a time, long ago, when she had nice clothes too.

 

Back in the dilapidated building…

 

Cassie was hunched down, hiding in a small storage room, trying to keep her breathing low and quiet.  Her heart was banging in her chest.  She had not seen much of the intruder, sticking around hadn’t seemed like a good option _.  Curiosity killed the cat_.  She told herself. _I know he was a big guy and he was wearing a mask.  Honest men don’t go walking around in masks.  GOD NO!_   Her heart screamed, as the storage room door was thrown open.

“Please don’t hurt me!” Cassie wailed, her arms over her face, as she balled up in the corner of the small room.

“I’m sorry I frightened you.  I’m not here to hurt you.” Batman said, holding up the palms of his hands and looking down at the terrified woman.  “I just want to ask you a few questions and I’ll be on my way.” He extended a hand to the old woman.  “May I help you up?” He offered.

“No, stay back.”  Cassie answered in a thin, quivering voice.  “I can answer your questions from here.”

“It’s about the purple jacket—”

“I didn’t steal it!  I swear, it was just lying on the ground.” Cassie cried.  “Take it!  Take it and go, please!”

“I know you didn’t steal it.  I just want to know what you saw.”

“I don’t see anything.  Somebody just threw it out of a car.  A green car.” Batman nodded, the Joker had escaped in a green car.

“Did the car stop?  Did anyone get out?”

“I didn’t see it stop.  I was looking at the jacket.  When I looked up again, the car was gone.”

“Did you see which way it went?”

“When I saw it, it was heading west on Concord.  Like I said, when I looked up it gone.”

“Thank you for answering my questions.  I’m going to take the jacket with me.  It might be dangerous for you to be seen with it.  It belongs to a very bad man.”

“Fine.  Fine, take it!” Cassie cried.

Batman got back in the Batmobile.  He started going through the jacket, checking its pockets.  He found a straight razor hidden in the lining.  The pockets were empty.  He saw flecks of what he assumed was his own blood on the sleeve.  _Back to square one_.  He inwardly groaned.  _Well, I know he was heading west before he dumped the tracker.  But let’s face it, that doesn’t tell me much.  Let me think.  What’s west of here?  Or better yet, what’s west of here that would make a good hideout for the Joker.  The old industrial district?  There’s a lot of abandoned buildings over there and not a lot of foot traffic.  It’s a long shot, but what the hell, I’ve got nothing else to go on._

Jasper glanced back at the Joker through the rearview mirror _.  He’s looking better now than he has all day._ He noted _.  Even seems like he’s in a good mood._

“Hey Boss.  You want I should stop and get you something to eat before we go back?” Jasper asked.  He knew the burger and fries he'd offered him earlier, were eaten by Truck.  That big lunk ate like a horse.

“No, head straight back to the spot.” Joker said, looking at his bloodstained shirt cuff.  “I'm expecting a gentleman caller and I want to make sure I'm prepared for his arrival!”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As Batman headed toward Gotham’s old industrial district, he reflected on how horribly wrong things had gone.  _Why did I blow up my own plan!  The Joker had seemed willing to go along with me; to use the lancets; exchange our blood._   _Why did I lose my cool when Joker asked me how I felt about our time together in Europe?  I should have avoided the question by saying something clever. I could’ve made a joke.  Why was shutting him up the only thing I could think about?_

_Things were so different between me and Joker in Europe.  More like being on another planet, than being on another continent.  We weren’t fighting each other, we were working together. We ate together, we slept in the same room together, we spent almost every waking minute together. I laughed at his jokes. When the virus turned my mind to mush, he didn’t use my weakness against me.  I trusted him because, in my condition, I had no choice.  But he never betrayed that trust.  He saved my life, **twice**!    _

__

_We were a team…a damn good team.  And it felt good!  It felt good to have someone by my side who could keep up with me.  Someone I didn’t have to protect.  Someone that was protecting me.  He let me see another side of him.  A side I’d never seen before.  The problem is, being in that situation made it too damned easy to forget who he was.  Too easy to forget the terrible things he’d done.  Too easy to see him as a friend._

_The truth is I don’t want to remember the way he made me feel about him in Europe.  It’s too dangerous.  Joker and I have a script, I’m the good guy and he’s the bad guy.  Good guy beats bad guy.  End of story.  That’s the script and I can’t afford to forget it.  Not if I want to keep Gotham City safe._

Meanwhile, at the Joker’s hideout…

The Joker felt like he was floating on air, as he moved with speed and precision across the factory floor.  He had a plethora of devices, which he strategically placed throughout the building with the assistance of his henchmen.  He knew he had a special guest arriving soon and he was going to be ready.  He was giddy with excitement and began to sing in the melody of _London Bridge_.

♬ “Batsy wants some Joker blood, Joker blood, Joker blood. Batsy wants some Joker blood, but he won’t get it! ♬ When he comes, I’ll lock him up, lock him up, lock him up. When he comes, I’ll lock him up.” ♬ He stopped singing and added in a dark sinister voice that ran chills down the spines of his crew.  “Then the fun will begin.”

 

Batman continued heading west down Concord Avenue, reaching the outskirts of the old industrial district.  He stopped and pulled up a copy of the district’s map on his Batmobile screen.  The map displayed outlines of the buildings in the area.  It also identified buildings that were still in use and those that were abandoned.  He noted a cluster of abandoned buildings in the northwest sector of the district.  One of them caught his eye.  It was the former location of the Gotham Amusement Supply Company.

 _I know I’m just going with a hunch here,_ Batman considered _, but my luck can’t stay bad all night, can it?_   Batman didn’t bother to answer his own question and began driving toward the northwest sector.  It was nearly midnight and the area was deserted.  It reminded him of a ghost town, he almost expected a large ball of tumbleweed to roll by.  Then he spotted it…the green car, parked directly in front of the abandoned amusement company.  He stopped his car far enough back to remain out of sight.  _Hmm, this is just a little bit too easy._ He thought.  _Obviously, a trap._

Normally, this would be when he’d call Jim Gordon and give him the location of the Joker’s hideout.   _But these aren’t normal times._ He told himself. _I need Joker’s blood.  I trust Jim, but this…this nightmare, I don’t want him to ever know about it.  I’m going to fix this and I’m going to do it alone._ He decided with grim determination, as he exited the Batmobile and approached the dark building. 

Moving in the shadows, Batman was grateful that his mind was currently sharp.  He knew how the virus worked, at any moment, his head could go fuzzy again.  All he could do was hope that he got to the Joker first.  Staring at the building, Batman considered his options.  _He’s in there waiting for me.  There’s no telling what he’s got in store for me inside.  I need to proceed with caution._   Batman switched his eye lenses to UWB radar mode and studied the building, looking for signs of movement inside.  _So far, nothing._ He noted, pursing his lips.   _I need to get closer_.  Coming out of the shadows, he walked to an area that allowed him to see more of the building.  _What?  There’s no one in the building!!_ His eyes widened, as he suddenly figured it out.

As he moved to duck for cover, a fast-moving projectile slammed into his temple.  He fell to the pavement, knocked unconscious before he knew what hit him.

“Bull’s eye! HA HA HA HA!” Joker crowed from his perch on the roof of the building opposite the amusement company.  He looked on in delight, as his men surrounded Batman’s body and began securing his limbs with the specially engineered restraints the Joker had designed.

 

Twenty minutes later, inside the former Gotham Amusement Supply Company…

Batman groaned, as his eyes fluttered open.  His entire body jerked at the sight of the Joker’s face only inches from his own.  The Joker’s bright red lips spread into an impossibly wide grin that only he can seem to pull off.  Batman gritted his teeth, as he realized he was secured to a reclining medical chair and there was a needle in his hand and a tube drawing his blood into a clear bag.  The pint-sized bag was almost full.  Batman squirmed in his restrains and found himself unable to move an inch.

“Ah, awake at last!” The Joker sang.  “How’s my Batsy feeling?  That mean old virus still got you down?” He added, twisting his mouth downward in a mocking display of compassion.  Batman replied with a cold stare.  “Oh my, looks like it’s time for a new bag.” The Joker chuckled, positioning the clip on the line to stop the flow.

“You know whole blood only lasts about 45 days.  So, taking more won’t do you any good.” Batman growled.

“Is that your way of warning me that I can’t kill you yet?” The Joker smiled, removing the needle and line from Batman’s hand.  Batman watched his movements, somewhat surprised to see the efficiency at which he completed the task.  The Joker quickly applied gauze and a band aid to the needle mark, before looking back in Batman’s face. 

“Why would I want to kill you.  You’re my own personal pharmacy.” The Joker added, licking a drop of Batman’s blood from the needle’s tip.  “Mmmm, yummy!” The Joker’s eyes closed for a moment, rocking back on his heels, as his body swayed slightly.  Batman cringed at the look of absolute contentment painting the Joker’s face.  “Better than smack and believe me I’ve had the good stuff.” Joker teased.  “A bigger rush without the annoying need to nod off.”

The Joker stood in front of Batman, lifting his hand with a dramatic twirl and holding out his open palm.  Looking Batman directly in the eye, he poked his index finger with the needle.  Batman stared at the ruby bead forming on the Joker’s fingertip.  Unable to pull his eyes away from the glistening drop, Batman licked his lips.  The virus choosing this moment to mount a fevered onslaught on Batman’s mind.  The Joker moved his finger closer, within inches of Batman’s lips.

“Stick out your tongue.” Joker commanded, his voice a steel fist in a soft, velvety glove. Batman, his eyes still pinned to the bright red droplet, did so without thinking, his mouth falling open; his tongue stretching and straining for the Joker’s blood-stained digit.

“My, what a long tongue you have.” Joker said in a saucy Red Riding Hood voice.  “It would be a shame to let that go to waste.” The Joker held his finger over Batman’s tongue and pinched the tip.  Smiling wildly as a drop of blood fell on Batman’s tongue.  A mild shiver passed through Batman’s body as the droplet splashed on the pebbly surface.  Batman quickly swallowed but it wasn’t enough, and he re-extended his tongue.  “Greedy boy.” Joker chided with a grisly grin, as he pricked his finger with the needle again and placed it in Batman’s mouth. 

Batman latched onto the digit, sucking hungrily.  The heat of his fevered mouth caught the Joker by surprise.  He gasped, the powerful sensation of Batman’s hot moist pull on his skin, demanding his undivided attention.  The Joker found the wet slurps and burning tongue simultaneously intoxicating and frightening.  Frightening for the feelings it evoked inside him.  He snatched his hand back, his heart pounding.  The Joker had always enjoyed taunting and teasing the Bat with suggestive phrases and thinly-veiled innuendo.  It was all for fun, part of the game.  But now, as he acknowledged the tightness at his crouch; the game was becoming far too real.

Batman’s head fell back, soft pants escaping his lips, as the wave of euphoria washed over him.  The Joker watched, riveted to the sight of Batman’s parted lips and the sound of his heated exhalations.  Tearing his eyes away, the Joker pulled a syringe off the table and stuck it into Batman’s hand; depressing the plunger and sending the strong sedative streaming into Batman’s system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are important to me. ♬ Good or bad, they’re like music to my ears. ♬


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Some distant quadrant of his brain knew he was awake.  He felt warm, cozy, comfortable.  He didn’t want to open his eyes.  He wanted to snuggle under the soft blanket, let sleep’s sweet embrace capture him once again.  Unfortunately, a full bladder demanded his attention and Batman opened his eyes.  _This isn’t my bed!_   He sat up, adrenaline flooding his system, as memories of the prior night resurfaced.  _Where am I?  Where’s the Joker?_

He threw the blankets from his body and jumped to his feet.  The floor cold beneath his naked soles.  Pushing back the panic grabbing at his gut, he quickly scanned his surroundings.  The pale sunlight, streaming through the room’s lone dingy window, revealing nothing but a bed, desk, and chair.  His Batsuit and armor was stacked on the chair.  His cowl lay on the desk.  _He knows who I am!_   He felt naked, exposed, vulnerable. He stood still, wearing nothing but his briefs and tee shirt, listening for the slightest sound…silence.  He hurriedly grabbed his suit and dressed, trying to make as little noise as possible.  As he sat on the bed, fastening his boots, something caught his eye; on the pillow, a red smudge.  _Is that blood?_  He ran a fingertip over the mark, smearing it a tiny bit.  _Not blood…lipstick?_   _Of_ _course, I’d recognize that color anywhere.  Did we share a pillow?  Did we share a bed?_ Batman squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head.  _That’s not what I need to be thinking about now._   _I need to get out of here._   _And I need to be prepared to fight my way out._

He stood up, taking note of the room.  No bigger than 12’ x 12’, its only door was closed.  He went to the window and looked out.  He recognized the street view from last night.  He was still in the old amusement supply company.  The green car was no longer in front.  His back to the window, he switched his lenses to UWB radar mode and did a 180-degree sweep.  He didn’t detect any movement.  He went to the door and opened it, only mildly surprised to find it unlocked.  It hadn’t taken Batman long to determine the building was deserted.  He contacted Alfred and updated him on what had occurred.  Alfred promised to be on alert to and wait in the Batcave until he returned. 

Once outside, he headed back to the Batmobile.  It was a little after 5:00 AM and the streets were still empty, but he could hear the rumble of a truck moving in the distance.  Finally, he felt secure enough to notice how good he felt.  The virus had abated.  His head was clear, and the old bounce was back in his step.  He picked up his pace, headed to his tumbler.  He reached the Batmobile, his mouth falling open at what he saw.  A crude drawing of a smiley face on the windshield.  It appeared to be drawn in blood.  Then it hit him, a memory, blocking out all other coherent thought.  The memory of the Joker’s finger in his mouth. 

_The cool finger touching my tongue._

_My mouth clasping around it, sucking…sucking harder…can’t get enough._

_His hand trembling on my tongue…_

Batman slapped himself, his drooping eyelids popping open.  _What am I doing?_   _Is the virus still affecting me?_   He asked himself, his heart pounding beneath his armor.  He pulled off his glove and looked at his hand.  His fingers were a healthy pink.  _I need to pull myself together_.  He took a deep breath, straightening his body and standing tall.

“Damned clown.” He mumbled, his hand swiping across the image.  The image remained.  He licked his fingertip and swiped it again, creating a clean stripe across the drawing.  Without thinking, he licked the fingertip again, intending to wipe the rest of the image away.  He felt a subtle jolt as it touched his tongue.  _Joker’s blood!_   He bent over, inspecting it more closely.  He wondered if it was enough to get a usable sample for testing.  A hint of a tangy scent reached his nostrils.  _Do I smell it?_   He leaned closer, inhaling deeply, his lips slightly parted.  He didn’t remember sticking out his tongue, but it’s on the windshield, lapping away at the drawing.  He never made a conscious decision to lick off the blood.  But once he got started, he couldn’t stop. In what felt like too soon, he noticed there wasn’t a trace of blood left.  He leaned his head against the windshield.  The glass cool, on the exposed part of his face, as the rush sent dopamine flooding into his system.  He was still a minute, basking in the beautiful glow that engulfed his body.  As he begun to rise, he saw his reflection in the glass; his jaw slack, drool dribbling from a corner of his mouth. He jerked his head up, quickly glancing around, grateful for the empty streets.  He hurriedly jumped into the Batmobile.  He sat back in the seat, his head clearing. _I need to get back to the Batcave.  I NEED TO FIX THIS!_

 

In a building not far from the amusement supply company…

The Joker watched the Batmobile pull away from the curb.  He was smiling as he stepped away from the window.  _Batsy won’t be able to deny the truth much longer._   _I saw the need in his eyes.  I saw him licking my blood off that windshield!  He’s farther gone than I thought.  He He He!_

Seeing Bruce Wayne’s face beneath Batman’s cowl was not a surprise to the Joker.  He had figured it out quite some time ago.  He had never acted on the information.  It had been the ace up his sleeve.  He’d been waiting for the right moment to make his play. 

 _Time to put all the cards on the table.  Now, while he has a monkey on his back…and that monkey is me. He He!_ The thought widened the smile on the pale man’s face. _I wonder how much he remembers about our time in Europe.  Much of the time he seemed as if he was in a drunken haze.  But a drunken mind speaks with a sober tongue.  He told me that if he had to die, he was glad it was with me.  That the only time he didn’t feel alone was when we were together.  He said he didn’t want to die alone.  We slept in the same bed that night.  His tears on the pillow we shared.  But it ended like it always does…me beaten, bloodied, broken, and alone.  The only difference, it’s on the streets of Rome.  And he calls me cruel.  Fucking hypocrite!  I’ll show him cruel.  I’m the connoisseur of cruel._

 

An hour later in the Batcave… 

The computer screen displayed the results of the blood test Bruce had just taken.  There were no signs of the Colossus virus in his blood.  This finding was not entirely comforting.  There had been no signs of the virus in his blood when he returned from Rome, but six weeks later it had come raging back, all the same.

 _Maybe it’s like the zoster virus, which causes both chicken pox and shingles._   He pondered.  _Chicken pox lasts about a week and then you’re cured.  The active virus is no longer in your bloodstream.  But a latent form of the virus lies dormant in your nervous system.  Years later, the virus can reassert itself as shingles.  OK, that’s not exactly how the Colossus virus works, but it’s similar.  There are vaccines for chicken pox and shingles.  A vaccine can probably be created for the Colossus virus.  Maybe the Pharmaceutical Research and Development Division of Wayne Enterprises can develop a vaccine.  I need to call Lucius Fox._

Later that evening… 

Bruce was in the study, his hand extended for toward the old grandfather clock, when he heard footsteps behind him.

“You’re going out tonight, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked, one eyebrow raised, the other furrowed.  Bruce turned to face the older man.  The tone of Alfred’s voice suggested disapproval and the set of his jaw made it abundantly clear.

“Why wouldn’t I go out tonight?” Bruce answered, sounding a bit more defensive than he intended.  Alfred pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the beads of perspiration on Bruce’s forehead.

“You were quite ill yesterday, sir.  Perhaps a bit more rest is warranted to get you back in top form.” Alfred said matter-of-factly, stuffing the hankie back in his pocket.  “And there is the early morning meeting with Mr. Fox at Wayne Enterprises.”

“I don’t think I can rest, knowing the Joker is still out there.” It wasn’t a total lie.  He couldn’t rest, not with this vague sense of unease gnawing at his gut, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.  He needed some fresh air, he needed something…

“You said the Joker knows you’re Bruce Wayne.  What if he comes here?” Bruce’s shoulders slump, he doesn’t have a good answer for Alfred’s question.

“You’re right Alfred.  I should stay here.” Bruce said, sighing wearily; his sense of duty like a shackle around his neck.  “We should run some tests on the estate’s security system.  Make sure everything’s in working order and there aren’t any vulnerabilities that need to be addressed.”  Alfred nodded, noting the shine on Bruce’s forehead and wondering.  _It’s not that warm in here.  Why is he sweating?  Just be grateful he’s not going out like this._   Alfred told himself, as he walked over to the clock and touched the hidden mechanism.  The tall clock swung open like the door.

“I’ll run the system through testing mode.” Alfred said, walking through the doorway to the Batcave.  Bruce followed.

“I’ll get suited up and patrol the grounds.”

 

A short time later, outside the mansion…

Batman was grateful for the crisp bite of the evening air.  The mansion, even the Batcave had begun to feel suffocating.  But for the rustle of leaves on the trees, the night was eerily silent.  He wished his mind could be so quiet.  As he patrolled the grounds, his thoughts kept roaming back to the Joker.  _Why did he just let me go?  What is he planning?  Is he going to go public with my secret identity?_   He understands that vigilantism is, by definition, an illegal activity.  He could be charged, convicted, and sent to Blackgate or worse yet, Arkham Asylum.  He swallowed, pushing back the hint of nausea prickling at the back of his throat.  The very idea almost made him physically ill. 

Batman was unsure of how to adapt to the shift in the balance of power between them.  The Joker was always dangerous, but now he was an even more deadly adversary.  If Bruce was an army, the Joker had pierced his rear flank and robbed him of his path to a speedy retreat.  The whole Batman thing worked because of his ability to disappear without a trace into the safe, privileged world of Bruce Wayne.  Without that cover, he would find himself vulnerable in ways he’d never been before.

Batman realized that his inner turmoil had made his so-called patrol of the estate into nothing more than a distracted stroll across the grounds.  Forcing himself to get back in the game, he took a deep breath and began to look more closely at his surroundings.  It was then that he noticed two small pinpoints of light near the gate of the estate.   _Those shouldn’t be there_. He walked, cloaked by shadows and watching where he stepped, as he soundlessly, invisibly moved closer to the gate.

For a moment he thought it might have been a small animal with light reflecting off its irises, but it was too bright.  _What the hell?_   He got right up on it and crouched down to get a better look.  _God, that’s the ugliest doll I’ve ever seen_.  He thought with a grimace, as he stared at the creepy toy clown.  It was less than a foot tall with white eyes that shined like tiny penlights.  He had no doubt who it was from.  _What’s that in the doll’s hand?_

 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Batman stared at the doll, considering the possibilities.  _It could be a bomb.  Or covered with poison.  Or any other sick, twisted crap only the Joker would find funny._ Batman snorted loudly, grabbing the doll. _What the hell, if he wanted me dead, I wouldn’t have woken up this morning._ It wasn’t heavy.  It was just the weight he’d expect a doll its size to be.  He stood up and moved under the gate’s light to see better.  There was a bottle in the doll’s white felt hand.  It looked like one of those tiny liquor bottles they give out on airplanes.  He read the handwritten note taped to the bottle where the label should be.  It was only two words _._ _Miss me?_

The fluid in the bottle glistened under the light with a ruby red glow.  Batman unconsciously licked his lips, as he pulled the doll to his chest protectively.  He broke into a run, heading back to the mansion _.  I need to test this.  If it’s Joker’s blood, there may be something I can learn from it that I can’t figure out with my blood alone._

Bruce sat in the Batcave pouring over the diagnostic report he’d run on Joker’s blood.  He ran his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.  _Nothing!  This tells me nothing!_   He silently brooded.  He sat up, his vision drawn to the small bottle of Joker’s blood.  _I need to refrigerate that.  I’ll take it to Lucius in the morning.  Surely, the scientists at Wayne Enterprises will be able to figure out more than I have._ He grabbed the bottle and walked over to the refrigeration unit.  He reached out to open its door and stopped, staring at the bottle.  _Maybe…maybe just a little sip would clear my mind, help me see something I missed._ He began to unscrew the top.

“No!  What am I thinking?”  He muttered, opening the refrigeration unit and shoving the bottle inside.  He slammed the door shut.  _Wait, I forgot to tighten the top._   He realized, opening the unit and pulling the bottle out.  He touched the top and it came off in his hand.  _It was loose_.  He noted.  He raised the bottle to his nose and sniffed.  An oddly sweet, coppery aroma tickled his nostrils.  _Just a sip._   He told himself, bringing the bottle to his lips.  The red, slightly congealed liquid coated his tongue.

“Ahhh…” He sighed after he swallowed.  He felt as he were floating on a sea of cotton balls, the world around him hazy and intangible.  Only one thing was real, the empty bottle gripped tightly in his hand.  He opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue and tapping the bottle against it, chasing that last drop of heaven.

 

The following evening…

Fully suited up, Batman began his patrol of Wayne Manor’s grounds.  He glanced up, relieved to see no reflection of the Batsignal in the cloudy night sky above him.  He wondered what the Joker was planning.  He knew the man had a dangerously active mind.  _I should be out looking for him_.  He told himself.  The meeting with Lucius Fox had been less than productive.  He wasted all day at Wayne Enterprises only for the scientists to unanimously agree that a live strain of the virus was needed to create a vaccine. _The blood that the Joker took from me should contain the live virus.  He drew my blood before he gave me the cure.  I’ll just do a quick sweep of the grounds, make sure Alfred is safe in the Batcave, and then I find the Joker._

He was walking along the perimeter of the estate when he saw it.  A balloon floating a few feet off the ground.  He cautiously approached.  As he got closer, he saw the balloon wasn’t white as he’d originally thought, but lilac.  He also saw two black dots and a semicircle forming a happy face on the balloon.

“Joker!” He sneered under his breath.  He gripped the helium-filled balloon by its string and lifted it.  His eyes widened at the sight of the tiny liquor bottle dangling at the end of the string.  It slowly swung back and forth like a pendulum.  He carefully wrapped his hand around the bottle and read the note attached.  _Want me?_ It read.  Batman snarled and stormed off in the direction of the mansion.

Twenty minutes later in Bruce’s bedroom…

Batman opened his eyes, a smile spreading his lips.  He felt great, energized and ready to go.  He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  His smile faltered, as his eyes met the small empty bottle perched on the nightstand beside him.  The last thing he remembered was coming upstairs to look for Alfred.  Then he remembered it all _.  Stepping into my bedroom for just one little sip.  Turning up the bottle and shaking it over my gaping mouth until the last drop fell.  Falling across my bed wrapped in a cocoon of total bliss._   _Oh God!  What’s happening to me!_ He squished his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose, forcing the shame-ridden memory from his mind. 

“I’m going to find the Joker.  I’m going to put an end this!” He growled with grim determination, as he stood and headed out the room.

 

The Hot Spot Club, in the Narrows…

Jasper sat at the table, nursing his drink; his eyes occasionally straying over to the Joker, who sat beside him.  He didn’t want to be caught staring, but he had a hard time keeping his eyes off the pale man’s face.  He and the Joker were probably the only two patrons in the club, whose eyes weren’t riveted to the scantily dressed women gyrating against the four poles on the center stage. 

He noted the Joker’s gaze moving across the crowd, sometimes stopping to stare at the entrance of the club.  _Is he expecting someone?_   Jasper wondered, his body tensing.  He glanced over at their two other cohorts, Truck and Frankie.  Both men were hooting at the girls on the stage, reaching over from time to time to tuck a bill in a G string and cop a feel. 

He glanced back at the Joker, just as the man turned to him.  Jasper sat shock still, frozen by the tall man’s piercing green gaze.  He could stare into those enthralling eyes for hours.  Jasper told himself he worked for the Joker because of the money, but he knew that wasn’t the whole truth.  Money had lured him into becoming part of the Joker’s crew, but it was the mesmerizing man that kept him there.  Jasper told himself he wasn’t in love with the Joker, but he knew that was a lie, too.

“Watch yourself, you’re about to start drooling.” The Joker told him with a sly, knowing smile.  Jasper quickly looked down into his half empty the glass, his cheeks growing red.  The Joker laughed, tousling the man’s wavy brown hair with a gloved hand.  Jesper felt his entire body warm at the touch.  The Joker stood up and spoke to Jasper in a hushed voice.  “Make sure the guys aren’t too distracted.  You never know when we might get an unexpected visit.” Jasper nodded, his throat too tight to speak a word, as he watched the green-haired man walk off toward the restrooms.  Jasper hurriedly got to his feet and approached the two goons at the stage.  He whispered in each man’s ear and all three returned to their seats at the table, their bodies tense and eyes trained on the club’s entrance and hallway to the back.

The Joker walked into the restroom and up to a urinal.  The man standing next to him quickly tucked his junk back in his pants, nearly tripping over his own feet, as he sped for the door while zipping his fly.

“You forgot to shake off.” The Joker teased with a wide grin, watching the man rush out the door.  The Joker turned back to the urinal, sliding down his zipper.  The sound of breaking glass shattered the silence of the room and Joker turned toward the busted window to see Batman landing with a resounding crunch on the glass littered floor.  He quickly pivoted, facing the Dark Knight.  “Can’t a man even take a piss in peace?” The Joker jibed with a smile that showed far too many teeth.  Batman gasped, he hadn’t expected the Joker to be in the restroom.  He quickly recovered, squaring his shoulders and reaching the Joker in two long strides.  He grabbed the Joker by the collar, their faces so close that he could smell a hint of the pale man’s aftershave.

“Men like you don’t deserve peace.” Batman growled, pulling the man even closer.

“What do I deserve?” Joker said, sticking out his tongue and painting a saliva wettened stripe up from the man’s chin to the tip of his cowl.  Batman steeled himself, attempting to ignore the shiver that ran down his spine.

“I won’t give you what you truly deserve.” Batman snarled.  “Just give me back my blood and you can buy one more night on the streets before I cart your ass back to Arkham.”

“You mean this?” The Joker teased, snatching a flask from his pocket and ripping the top off with his teeth.  Batman reached for the flask at the end of the Joker’s outstretched arm.  The Joker laughed, tossing it into a urinal.  Batman dived for it, but Joker was too fast, and Batman looked on in dismay as the red liquid swirled down the urinal’s drain.  Outraged, Batman slammed a fist into the Joker’s jaw.  The Joker fell back against the wall nearly toppling into a urinal.  He quickly straightened and threw a punch at Batman.  Batman dodged the punch and grabbed Joker by the wrist, landing a solid left jab with his other fist.  The force of the blow caused the Joker to drop the knife he had pulled from another pocket.  Batman grabbed his other wrist and lifted both the man’s arms, pinning him against the wall.

“You bastard!” Batman seethed, his eyes drawn to the trickle of blood rolling from the corner of Joker’s mouth.  The Joker’s eyes grew wide as saucers, as Batman licked the blood from his skin.  Despite the cowl, the Joker perceived the horrified expression on Batman’s face, and he smiled exposing his bloodstained teeth.  The sight was too much for Batman and his lips plunged against the Joker’s, his tongue hungrily reaching inside the pale man’s mouth.  The Joker couldn’t move, shocked by the sensation of the Dark Knight’s hot tongue greedily probing his sensitive cavity.  The Joker bit down cruelly on Batman’s tongue, making a small cut.  The coppery tang of what the bite released invaded Joker’s mouth, driving the thin man wild, as he sucked ravenously upon Batman’s tongue.  The two men’s bodies ground against each other, both aroused by the dizzying taste of the other’s blood.

Jasper’s heart fell, as he barged into the restroom to see Batman’s body pressed against the Joker’s, while the two men appeared to be engaged in a passionate kiss.

“NOOO!” Jasper roared, throwing his bulky frame against the Bat and releasing the Joker from his grip.  With almost blinding speed, the Joker dashed from the rest room, leaving the two men tousling on the floor.  Batman pummeled Jasper, rendering the man unconscious yet continuing to hit him.  Finally, he noticed the state of the battered and broken man beneath him and stopped punching.  He looked at the motionless man, telling himself that being torn from Joker’s lips, didn’t fuel the ferocity of his onslaught.  He placed his fingers on the man’s throat.  He felt a pulse and exhaled loudly.  Not realizing, until he heard the sound, that he had been holding his breath. Unwilling to face what he had almost done, Batman jumped to his feet and the ran out the restroom. 

Batman dashed into the main portion of the club and was met by a hail of bullets fired by Truck and Frankie.  The bullets bounced off his Kevlar suit.  The club erupted into mayhem, screams piercing the air, dancers ducking for cover and patrons stampeding for the door.  Batarangs flew through the air, hitting both gunmen.  Batman surged for the exit, shoving people aside, making his way out the door.  He reached the sidewalk, people streaming out of the club on both sides of him, but the Joker was nowhere in sight.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“Damn it!” Batman growled under his breath.  _I can’t believe I let that bastard get away._   He inwardly fumed.  _Wait!_   _The man who helped him get away, may be the man who helps me find him._   Batman did an about face and pushed his way through the last few departing customers and reentered the club.  He made a beeline directly for the rest room.  Batman smirked, as he entered the restroom to see Jasper slowly rising to his feet, using one of the toilet stalls for support.  Jasper’s eyes met his, and the smirk slid from Batman’s face.  He had expected to see the man trembling in fear at the sight of him, but despite the swelling and discoloration, Jasper’s gaze was pure, naked hatred.

“You can’t have him!” Jasper screamed, pulling a gun from his shoulder holster.  “He may not kill you, but I will!” Jasper snarled, aiming a shot directly at Batman’s mouth.  Jasper hesitated a half-second too long before pulling the trigger and Batman ducked, throwing a batarang.  The shot went high, but the batarang met its mark, slicing into Jasper’s hand and forcing him to drop the gun.  Batman dived into the massive man’s midsection, knocking him to the floor.  Batman jumped atop Jasper, grabbing his wrists and pinning the thrashing man to the floor.

“WHERE IS JOKER?” Batman shouted, his spittle flying in Jasper’s face.

“Why?  So, you can finish what you started!” Jasper snarled, as he continued to squirm under Batman.  “I saw what you were doing.  Forcing yourself on him.” His accusation hit Batman like a punch to the gut.  He couldn’t deny the truth in the man’s words.  Jasper picked up on the subtle change to Batman’s demeanor, wrenching an arm free and delivering a mean right hook to Batman’s jaw.  Batman was jarred by the impact of the punch, but not enough to fall off the huge man.  He retaliated, landing a bruising blow right in the middle of Jasper’s face, breaking the man’s nose.  Jasper howled in pain and spat a blood-filled glob of phlegm into Batman face. 

“I’m not telling you shit!  You fucking pervert!” Jasper sneered, his eyes like red-hot daggers.  Batman had a sudden epiphany.  The hate and anger burning in the man’s eyes wasn’t about the beating he received.  _He’s jealous!_   Batman realized.

“I don’t want Joker.” Batman said, lying to both Jasper and himself.  “I just want my blood back.  You were there when he took it from me.  Where is it?”

“What part of, I’m not telling you shit, don’t you understand.  You sick fuck!” Jasper spat, curling his lips with disgust.  A rumble like a growl emerged from Batman’s throat and he punched Jasper, hitting him squarely in his broken nose.  He lifted his arm to strike again and stopped himself when he noticed the man beneath him was unconscious.  He searched the man’s body, hoping to find some clue to the Joker’s whereabouts and stashing the only useful item he found in his belt.  Batman stood up wearily, hearing the sound of police sirens growing closer.  He quickly propped the man up into a sitting position, leaning him against one of the stalls.  He didn’t want the man to choke on his own blood.  Batman stuck a tracker under the goon's coat before he turned and left out of the same window he’d come through.

 

The Joker’s maniacal cackling reverberated throughout the confines of the V8 sedan he drove at breakneck speed through Gotham’s streets.  He’s alone now, but that did nothing to temper his exceedingly good mood.  _He kissed me!_   The Joker inwardly cheered, his eyes twinkling with glee.  _Is there anything he won’t do to get my blood?_ The Joker wondered.  _I guess I’ll need to put that theory to the test.  This is going to be sooo much fun._

“Watch out Batsy, I’m gonna make you my bitch.” He sang with joy.  He hungered for destruction, a way to celebrate, but it was the middle of the night and few cars and even fewer pedestrians were anywhere in sight.  Most Gothamites know night is when all hell breaks loose in their city and choose to keep off the streets.  But then there are those who have nothing but the street to call home.

 _Ooh, lookee there!_  The Joker thought, smiling at a group of men standing around a fire burning in a large metal drum, as they passed a bottle of cheap wine between them.  He slammed his foot down on the gas pedal.

Fortunately for the winos, the roar of the V8 engine alerted them to their peril and they scattered, just as the Joker’s car jumped the curb and plowed into the burning drum.  His high-pitched laughter pierced the night air, as he watched the bums running off in all directions.   _Look at them, running like roaches when the light comes on._   The Joker laughed even harder, at the feel of the car lifting with a bump and landing with a bounce, as it rolled over the body of one man, who wasn’t quite quick enough.  As he reveled in the pleasure of bringing one more meaningless life to its inevitable end, he was distracted by the vibration of the cell phone in his pocket.  He looked at the phone.  _Jasper, hmm, I wonder if he got away or if the poor dear thinks I’ll be posting his bail._

“Hellllooo.” The Joker answered with a jovial lilt.  He frowned when there was no response, a frown that turned upside down as he figured it out.  “Darling,” He cooed.  “missing my sweet lips already?”

“It’s not your lips I want.” Batman replied roughly.

“Don’t you mean it’s not _just_ your lips I want?” The Joker countered with a saucy purr.

“You know exactly what I want.” Batman hissed.

“Yes, I know, but do you?  Or are you still lying to yourself.”

“What do you mean?” Batman replied, knowing he needed to keep the conversation going long enough to get a fix on the Joker’s location.  He glanced at the screen on the tumbler’s console, as it triangulated the cell phone’s signal.

“Your armor wasn’t the only hard thing I felt pressing against my body in that restroom.”

“You must be referring to the wall.”

“The wall, eh, is that the little nickname you’ve given it?  I really would have expected you to pick something more appropriate.  Brucie’s baby bat, perhaps.  Although there was nothing childlike about it.”

“You didn’t feel anything!” Batman protested, a bit too vehemently.

“Whether I felt it or not, I know it was there.  Are you going to deny it?”

“There’s nothing to deny.” Batman stated, failing to disguise the slightly guilty tone to his voice.

“Well, if you’re still in denial, I guess there’s nothing for us to talk about.  Bye bye, Batsy.”

“Wait!” Batman cried, alarmed that the Joker might hang up too soon.  “Maybe…maybe there was something.” Batman added hesitantly.

“Something…?  Care to elaborate?”

“Er, uh,”  Batman’s mind was racing, he needed to keep Joker on the phone.  All he needed was a few more minutes.  “There may have been a spark between us.” He scowled, after the words passed his lips.  _Why did I say that?_  He wanted to kick himself for blurting out the first thing that came in his head.

“HA HA HA!” The Joker shrieked with laughter.  “A spark?  Really, is that what you call it?  Seemed more like a raging inferno from where I stood.”

“It was just the blood!” Batman insisted.

“Are you sure that’s all it was?” The Joker teased.  Batman felt like he could see the gleeful smile spreading across the Joker’s face.  The Joker’s tone abruptly turned serious, as he almost growled into the phone.  “I know you’re tracking my cell.  I also know I’m moving too fast for you to get a bead on me.  But don’t you worry your pretty little head, when I’m ready for you to find me, I’ll let you know.” Joker disconnected the call and turned off the phone. 

“Damn!” Batman slammed his fist into the dashboard, seeing the blip on the screen disappear.  _Well, at least I’ve got a back-up plan this time._   He remembered, pressing buttons on the console to pull up the location of the tracker he’d put on Joker’s goon.

 

Jasper half-walked, half-staggered down an alley, only a few blocks away from the strip club.  He was hurting in more places than he could count and felt his legs could give out at any second.  It was only the sight of a nondescript white van, further down the alley, that kept him moving _.  Just a few more feet.  Just a few more feet._   He silently chanted, as he trudged forward.  He got to the van and pounded on its rear door.

“Open up, It’s me, Jasper!” He hollered, continuing to hammer the door with his fist.  He heard the lock disengage and stumbled back a step to let the van’s door swing open.  Truck’s grinning face appeared through the opening in the door.  Seeing Jasper’s condition, his eyes widened, and mouth fell open.

“Jasper!  What happened to you?  You look like shit!” Truck blurted out.

“The damned Bat, that’s what happened to me.  Where’s the boss?”  He asked, grabbing Truck’s hand and being pulled into the van.

“I dunno.  I tried calling him, but he doesn’t answer the phone.”

“Where’s Frankie?”

“I dunno where he is either.  He was mumbling something about getting the hell out of Dodge.  He called the boss a fucking Bat magnet.  Have you tried calling the boss?  Maybe he’ll pick up for you.  You always were his favorite.”

“Hmph, we know who’s the boss’s favorite.” Jasper mumbled under his breath.

“Huh?”

“Nothing.” Jasper replied, looking down shaking his head.  He turned to Truck.  “My phone’s gone.  I think Batman took it.”

“Why would he want your phone?  All those gadgets he’s got, I’m sure he’s already got a phone.” Jasper cast Truck a sideways glance, thinking.  _Just my luck, here I am damn near beaten to a pulp and stuck with this dumb ass._

“He didn’t take it because he needs a phone.” Jasper wearily replied.  “He needed it to call the Joker.  If he reached him, he could track him using the cell phone signal.” _Shit!  Truck’s not the only dumb ass._   He suddenly realized, pulling off his suitcoat and quickly looking it over, searching for a tracking device.

“What’s that on your back?” Truck asked, pointing to the back of his shirt.  Jasper hurriedly removed his shirt, popping a few buttons in the process.  He wedged the tip of his knife under the tracker, removing it.  He grabbed one of the discarded burger wrappers from the floor and quickly wrapped the tracker inside the aluminum foil.  He then tossed the whole thing into a metal toolkit and slammed the lid shut.  “What are you—?”

“Get behind the wheel!” Jasper spat, interrupting Truck.  “Hurry up!  We need to get the hell away from here.”

 

Batman blinked twice and scowled, as he saw the tracker signal go dead.  _Maybe he’s gone in a tunnel._   He wondered, but it didn’t seem likely.  The last time he saw the signal, it had still been near the club and there weren’t any tunnels large enough to block the signal near there.  _He could be traveling through the sewers._   Batman continued to travel back to the Hot Spot, hoping the signal might reappear.

 

“I’m hommmeee!”  The Joker crooned in a singsong voice, walking into his hideout.  It was an old single-family home, the furniture well-worn but serviceable.  He had no doubt his voice could be heard in every room.  “Hmm…”  He frowned, as his greeting was met with silence.  _Where are they?_   _Did the GCPD round all of them end up?_   He wondered.  He walked into his office and pulled a new cell phone from the desk drawer.  _No use calling Jasper._   He grimaced, tapping Truck’s number into the phone.

Ten minutes later…

Truck and Jasper walked into the hideout, the small metal tool box in Jasper’s hand.  He looked at the Joker, sitting on the couch, his arms stretched out on the back rest and legs extended, ankles crossed on the coffee table.  Jasper placed the toolbox on the table next to Joker’s feet.

“There it is Boss, your own personal Batsignal.” Jasper said, standing up and crossing his arms.  The Joker sat up straight, pulling his legs off the table and slapping his palms on his knees.  The Joker leaned forward and stared at the toolkit for moment, before sitting up and patting the couch cushion next to him.  Jasper sat down, his thigh touching the Joker’s.

“Good work Jaspie.” The Joker said, flinging an arm over Jasper’s shoulder.  Jasper felt himself grow warm at the compliment but resisted the urge to lean his head on the Joker’s shoulder.  “Maybe I’ll forgive you for giving the Bat my phone number.” The Joker added, his voice taking on a darker edge, as he gripped Jasper’s shoulder more tightly.  Jasper’s body stiffened, as the pressure on his shoulder increased.  The Joker broke into laughter, releasing Jasper and slapping the goon’s thigh.  “But no harm done, having a direct line to the Bat might just come in handy.” The Joker said, rising from the couch.    Jasper sighed in relief, the tension draining from his body as he watched the pale man walking from the room. 

 

Thirty minutes later…

Batman had just returned to the Batcave, when he heard the ding of a text message being received on Jasper’s phone.  He lifted the phone and looked at the message.  It was a picture of a man’s erect penis, a glaringly white hand grasping the large, vein engorged shaft.  The message read ‘Just thinking of you’.  Batman gasped, his hand trembling slightly, as he stared, transfixed by the image before him. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was revised to incorporate the helpful input I got from my bud, the_tilly.

Chapter 7

Batman shut the phone off, his face growing warm as he realized he’d been staring at the picture much longer than he intended.  He took a deep breath, tapping the cellphone against his chin, trying to gather his thoughts.  He was having a hard time getting the image out of his mind.  It was like telling yourself not to think of pink elephants.

He put the phone down and pulled a bottle of water from the mini fridge.  His mouth had gone dry and the cold water felt good going down his throat.  Then he had a thought.  _He had to turn on his phone to text me._   _Maybe I can still find him.  I need to text him back, engage him in a conversation._   Batman grabbed the phone.

 _ **Impressive.**_   Batman texted back.  _That should get his attention.  He’s quite the egomaniac.  I just need him to text me back._   He hurriedly jumped into the tumbler, quickly opening the program that would allow him to track the phone.  He stared at the phone waiting for a response.  As he waited, the seconds seemed to tick by in slow motion.

 _ **Did you expect anything less?**_   The Joker finally texted back.  Batman felt as if he could see the smirk on the pale man’s bright red lips.

 _ **No, not from you.  You’ve never ceased to amaze me.**_ Batman replied with a smirk of his own, as he saw the flashing dot on the dashboard monitor. 

_**Who? Lil ol’ me?** _

_**There’s nothing little about you.** _

_**I thought I was texting the Bat, but it seems like I got Bruce Wayne the smooth-talking playboy instead.**_   Bruce released a faint gasp at the statement.  The Joker was right, in his effort to charm the man, Batman had unconsciously slipped into his Bruce Wayne persona.  Bruce decided that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing and responded to the text.

_**Maybe I want to give you a chance to get to know me better.  All of me.  There are parts of me you’ve never seen.** _

_**Which parts?  I saw most of them when I took a peek while you showered in Paris.**_ The Joker texted back. 

The gasp that Bruce let out this time wasn’t faint.  It was full throated and breathy.  The voice recognition picked up the sound and typed a useless word.  Bruce quickly deleted it and punched the place call icon. 

His lips formed a hard line, as he listened to the phone ringing on the other end, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.  Bruce’s shoulders slumped, as the call went to voicemail.  He threw the phone down on the seat with a grimace and folded his arms, mentally debating his next course of action.  He picked up the phone and called again.  It went directly to voicemail.  It was then that he noticed the blinking dot was no longer on the screen.  He turned on the ignition and sped out of the Batcave.

The Joker was in his car, parked on a quiet residential street, less than a mile from his hideout.  He was sitting there, just laughing his ass off.  Black eyeliner tinged tears rolled down his cheeks, as his hardy guffaws died down to a quiet chuckle.  He picked up the laptop lying on the seat next to him.

“Hmm, looks like Batsy’s on the move again.”  Joker murmured to himself, as he looked at the app tracking Jasper’s cell phone.  “OOH, I JUST LOVE A GOOD CHASE SCENE!” He trilled with delight, peeling away from the curb with a trail of dust and dead leaves flying his wake.

 

Batman floored the accelerator, zooming toward the location of the Joker’s last cell phone ping.  The world outside the tumbler zipped by in a blur.

The tracking dot lit up on his screen.  His heart raced as he gained on the object of his pursuit.  He grinned, his cheeks screaming in protest.  _I got you!_

The Joker was heading directly for the East End Underpass. Batman felt the hairs prickling on the back of his neck.  The tunnel stretched for nearly a mile without an exit ramp, making it an ideal spot for the Joker’s malicious mischief.  Taking a detour around it would waste precious time _.  Can’t let him get away!_  Batman sped toward the tunnel.  The tumbler roared in, only minutes behind the Joker.

The night sky disappeared, replaced by concrete curves and rows of artificial lighting.  Batman felt enshrouded by a surreal desolation, as the Batmobile zipped through the long, empty tunnel.  The Joker’s car was nowhere in sight.  A bend was coming up.  _I should be able to see him once I make it around this curve._ Batman grimaced; teeth clenched.  The tumbler barreled forward.

**_KAAH-BOOOM!  CUURRRASH!_ **

A huge explosion rocked the tunnel, Batman held on to the steering wheel for dear life, as the pavement beneath the tumbler rumbled.  The sound was deafening.  Massive, boulder-like chunks of concrete fell from the tunnel’s ceiling, creating an impenetrable wall, blocking his path forward. 

 _Must stop before I hit that!_   Bat man’s brain screamed.  He slammed on the brakes, the explosion’s aftershocks ringing in his ears.  Dust and debris flew through the air, and Batman could hardly see.  He swerved the wheel right. He swerved the wheel left. _MUST SLOW DOWN!_

“NOOOO!” Batman yelled, as the tumbler pummeled into the mountain of concrete with wickedly protruding rebar struts.  He lurched forward, the seatbelt knocking the breath from his lungs, as the air bag deployed.  Batman was sweat-drenched and panting, as he struggled to gain composure.  _I’m OK!  I’m OK!_  He silently chanted, as he took in the nightmarish scene.  The tunnel’s flickering lighting failed and there was nothing but darkness before him.

He looked behind him, heartened to see the path leading back to the other end of the tunnel still appeared open.  He quickly backed up and executed a three-point turn.  He barely got the car turned around when a second explosion erupted in front of him.  This explosion was even closer and large shards of concrete and mortar pelted the tumbler.  The noise a fierce cacophony, like the rains of hell, bombarding his senses. Everything went pitch black outside his car, the lights on his dashboard and the distorted glow of his headlights the only things saving him from total darkness. 

An unsteady breath passed from his lips, as he gazed at the exit in front of him…completely impassable.  He cut off the engine, wary of possible asphyxiation, should carbon monoxide fill the narrow confines of his underground tomb.  Despite his headlights, he could barely see through the thick haze of debris-clogged air still churning around him.  The claustrophobic darkness conjured the long-buried terror he’d once faced, as a child trapped underground.  He stiffened his spine, pushing the disturbing memories away.  _Now is not the time for fear._

As the racket died down, he put on an air mask and opened the car door.  Everything around him was in ruins, the only comfort he found was that no one else appeared to have shared his fate.  That comfort abruptly dashed, as he noted a light flickering further down the tunnel.

He rushed for the light source, stopping in his tracks, as the sound of maniacal laughter pierced the dense, dark air.  The flashlight beam, he had been following, shifted to spotlight the Joker, hanging near the top of an emergency exit ladder.  He was holding on by only one hand with one foot on another rung, his long lithe form swaying with weightless grace above Batman.

“Were you following me?” The Joker cackled; his trademark smile stretched even wider than usual.  “What are you…my stalker?” He added, his deep accusatory tone, betrayed by his sparkling glee-filled eyes.

“Why not?” Batman sneered.  “A stalker and a peeping Tom, we make a perfect match.” Batman added sarcastically, as he walked closer.

“Perfect indeed.” The Joker grinned, swinging around to grab the rungs with both hands and dashing up the ladder.  Batman sprung into action, flinging a grappling hook to the top of the ladder just as the Joker made his way out the exit.

The Joker hit the street running, laughter bubbling from his lips.  _C’mon Batsy, catch me if you can!_ He hummed to himself, as he darted across a large hotel’s crowded parking lot. 

Batman emerged from the tunnel, greedily gasping in mouthfuls of fresh air, cool and refreshing as it travelled down his hot, parched throat.  He got to his feet, his eyes furiously darting around for any sight of the Joker.  _There he is!_   Batman inwardly cheered, as he spotted the Joker darting between parked vehicles, at least 50 feet ahead of him. 

“Gotcha!”  Batman sang with delight as he threw a batarang.  He smiled as he watched the device zipping through the air, headed directly for the Joker.  His face fell, as the Joker weaved, the projectile missing its mark and bouncing off the rear window of a parked van _.  DAMMIT!  How does he move that fast!_   _Where is he!_

**_BIZZZ—POP!  BIZZZ—POP!  BIZZZ—POP!  BIZZZ—POP!_ **

Batman’s eyes widened his mouth falling open, as one-by-one, in quick succession, every light in the parking lot went dark.  Deep shadows engulfed the area, barely pierced by the city’s streetlights nearly a quarter block away.  Batman quickly switched his cowl to night vision, his head darting in different directions, as he looked for the Joker.  Detecting movement out of the corner of his eye, unsure of exactly what he’d seen, Batman gave chase, a surge of adrenaline propelling him forward. 

“AAAAHH!” Batman screamed.  Blindingly bright light searing his irises, coming out of nowhere, focused on his face.  He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, flicking off his night vision, as halos of light danced across his closed eyes.  He shook his head, trying to dispel the ghostly images.   Then he heard it.  An ignition turning on.  The screech of tires, squealing off the asphalt.  

“NOOO!” Batman howled, his vision gradually returning, in time to see a car roaring from the parking lot.  Batman clenched his teeth, his brow deeply furrowed beneath his cowl, as he wondered how long ago the Joker has set up this elaborate escape plan.  It begged the question, how many other bombs did he have placed around the city just waiting to go off? 

As Batman tapped his cowl, about to call Alfred, he heard the muffled sound of Jasper’s cell phone ringing in his utility belt pouch.  He retrieved the phone, noticing as he lifted it that it was almost 4:00 AM.

“Where are you?” Batman barked into the phone.

“Oooh, you still want to play?  I thought you would have had enough fun for one night.” The Joker teased with a breathy giggle.

“This isn’t a game.”

“Of course, it is sweetheart.  The best game in town.”

“Do you have any idea how much money it’s going to take to reconstruct that tunnel?”

“Hmmm…”  The Joker paused before responding.  “A lot.” He chuckled.  “Sorry I can’t be more specific, but I specialize in demolition, not construction.”

“You specialize in making people’s lives a living hell.”

“Why thank you, I’m flattered.  It’s nice to know someone appreciates how hard I work.”

“Appreciates isn’t the word I’d use.” Batman growled, clenching his fist.

“Hmph, now you’re just being rude.  I might as well hang up, if you going to be like that.”

“No, wait.  I want to make a trade.”

“I’m listening.”

“I want my blood back and I’ll exchange it for a fresh pint.”

“How will I know it’s your blood?”

“You’ll know the moment you taste it.”

“How will I know it’s fresh?”

“I’ll let you see me draw it.” Batman offered.  The Joker was silent for a moment.

“OK, but I’ve got conditions.  I choose the location.  You come as Bruce Wayne.  No Batsuit, no bat gadgets.”

“Fine, no Batsuit, no bat gadgets, but I choose the location.”

“Sounds like a trap to me.”

“It isn’t.  If I try anything funny, just do what you always do.  Threaten to blow something up unless I set you free.”

“Oooo, you know me so well.  I just love that about you.”

“So, we’ve got a deal?”

“No.” The Joker nonchalantly replied.  Bruce felt his temperature rising, clutching the phone in a white-knuckled grip, as his other hand balled into a fist.  He wanted to punch something, anything, but most of all the Joker.

“So, you’ve just been stringing me along.  Playing games. You never had any intention of returning my blood.”

“Maybe we can work something out.  But I’m not finished negotiating yet.  Obviously, this blood is very important to you.  _And I know why._   So, you’re gonna hafta sweeten the pot Brucey boy.”

“What do you want?” Batman growled.

“Hmmm, let me see…the Moon, the stars…your heart on a silver platter.” The Joker sang with an airy joviality.  “I wish I could see your face now, your whole face.  I’ve bet you’re a sight to behold.” The Joker was right.  Batman was fuming, literally shaking with rage. 

“Forget it!” Batman spat.  “I was a fool to think I could negotiate with a lunatic!”

“Now now, Batsy, I’m getting the impression that you’re letting your emotions get the better of you.  The first rule of successful negotiations is keeping a cool head.” The Joker teased condescendingly.  “I think this negotiation process is far too important to be handled over the phone.  It needs to be done face to face.”

“Why should I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?”

“Because, I’ve never lied to you.  Tricked you, misled you, omitted pertinent facts perhaps, but I’ve never actually lied to you.”

“Of course, you have!  You lie all the time!”

“Not to you.” The Joker said, his words uncharacteristically soft and solemn.  Then he continued, his voice rising in volume and pitch.  “If I lie to you so much, then give me one example.  If it happens so often, it shouldn’t be that difficult.” Batman was silent.  “Well…” Joker prodded.

“Nina.”

“You asked me to free her.  I never promised you I would save her.  I never promised you I _could_ save her.  The woman had been force-fed burning coals!  You don’t just bounce back from something like that.  NOW GIVE ME A REAL EXAMPLE!” The Joker shouted.  Batman hesitated a moment before blurting out.

“You’ve told me you were going to kill me countless times.”

“True, but I’ve never cited a specific time and place.  So, technically it’s not a lie…yet.”

“Well, that really bolsters my confidence.”

“Are we going to meet for negotiations or not?” The Joker snarled.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Someplace public.  You come as Bruce Wayne and I’ll come in my secret identity.”

“You…you have a secret identity?” Batman asked, eyebrows raised.

“Actually, I have several.  But I’m willing to share one with you as a sign of good faith.”

“OK, you’ve piqued my interest.  When and where?”

“Tomorrow, 7:00 PM at the Iceberg Lounge.  I’ll reserve a private dining room.  And you have my word, I won’t kill you, harm you, or detain you without your permission, unless it’s in self-defense.  And I won’t instruct anyone else to do so either.  Now you promise me the same thing.”

“I promise, you have my word.”

“Oh, and no calling the cops.”

“As long as you don’t give me a reason to call them, I won’t.”

“Ummm, sounds like you’re trying to find some wiggle room.  How about this?  No calling the cops, period.  I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“ _Your_ best behavior?  Seems like there’s an awful lot of wiggle room in that too.”

“Are we going to do this or not?”

“Fine, it’s a date.”

“Woo Hoo, a date, I like the sound of that.” The Joker chortled, disconnecting the call.  Batman groaned, shaking his head and asking himself.  _Why did I call it that?_

 

 

 

Later, that evening…

Alfred was hunched over the computer keyboard, busily tapping and clicking away, when Bruce entered the Batcave.  He didn’t look up or acknowledge Bruce’s presence.  Bruce looked on quietly.  It was obvious the man was intensely engaged with something.  Several minutes passed, and Alfred sat up in his chair, slapping his thighs with a sigh.

“Thank goodness, that’s over and done at last!” Alfred exclaimed with obvious relief, turning to Bruce.

“What’s done?” Bruce asked, a quizzical look on his face.

“Listen.” Alfred replied with a smile, cocking his head to the side.  A smile spread across Bruce’s face, as the roar of a powerful engine began to echo through the Batcave.

“The Tumbler!  You got it back!” Bruce rejoiced, grabbing Alfred’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze.  “How did you get back so quickly?”

“Well, it felt more like a slow arduous process to me.” Alfred groaned, wiping a hand across his brow.  “First, I had to grease more than a few palms to get the excavation expedited.  The excavation alone took all morning and much of the afternoon.  Then, remotely driving the tumbler through rush hour traffic…  God, that was a nightmare, but I didn’t want to trust auto pilot.  Traffic in that area is bad enough on a regular day, but with the tunnel out, it was beyond atrocious.  Oh, and don't forget to thank Commissioner Gordon, he’s the only reason the car didn’t get impounded.”

“Let me thank you first!” Bruce gushed, bending over and giving Alfred a big hug.  “THANK YOU!”

“Glad to be of assistance sir.” Alfred said, standing quickly and extricating himself from the hug.  Bruce lowered his arms, knowing that Alfred wasn’t a man for exuberant displays of emotion.  “Will you be taking the Tumbler out tonight, Master Bruce?  It will no doubt need a good cleaning first.”

“No, I’ll be taking one of the other cars.  I probably won’t be going on patrol tonight.”

“Umm…” Alfred murmured with a nod of approval.  “If I may ask, sir, who is the lucky lady?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that.” Bruce said, vigorously shaking his head and waving a hand.  “I have a business meeting.”

“Oh, I see.” Alfred replied; an eyebrow raised at Bruce’s overzealous denial.  He knew Bruce and knew the man was hiding something.  This worried Alfred.  Ironically, Bruce was keeping his meeting with the Joker secret because he didn’t want to worry Alfred.  Truth was, Bruce was worried enough for both of them.

“I’m going upstairs to get dressed.” Bruce announced, avoiding Alfred’s eyes, as he hurried from the cave. 

 

Later that evening, at the Iceberg Lounge…

Bruce had barely reached the entrance, when he was ushered into the main dining room by a soft-spoken, well-dressed man.  Once there, he was greeted by none other than Oswald Cobblepot, the club’s proprietor.

“Welcome to the Iceberg Lounge, Mr. Wayne.” Oswald gushed, smiling broadly.  “It is our pleasure to have you as a guest tonight.” He added, giving Bruce a firm handshake.  Bruce noticed more than one person taking pictures in the background.  He graced them with his trademark billionaire playboy smile, sparkling white teeth set in full, softly moistened lips. 

“The pleasure is mutual, I assure you.” Bruce graciously responded, returning the handshake.

“Please, let me escort you to the private dining room we’ve reserved for your visit.”

Oswald gently tapped Bruce’s elbow, as he moved forward.  There was an air of regality to the shorter man’s stride, despite the subtle dips his body took with each step.  After a brief elevator ride, they entered a corridor lined tasteful ornate sconces, which cast a warm glow down the long hallway.  They traveled less than a quarter of the way down, when Penguin opened a door and extended an arm, inviting Bruce inside.

Bruce entered, blinking a few times as he eyed the rather spacious and luxurious room.  The floor a brightly polished marble, perfectly complemented by the rich mahogany picture-frame wainscoting lining the room.  A low fire crackled softly in the fireplace, giving the space a welcoming feel.  A stained-glass window, with deep burgundy, green, and golden hues, center-pieced the wall opposite the door.  The soft light flowing through it lending a faint, colorful design to the white linen spread on the table beneath it.

Oswald, a man that missed little, noted Bruce’s appreciative gaze and a slight smile tugged at his lips.  He stepped away from the door, allowing a white-coated waiter to enter the room.  The waiter lit the candles on the table and pulled out a chair.

“Please, make yourself comfortable Mr. Wayne.” Oswald offered, an arm extended toward the table and chair.  “I’m sure the other guest will be arriving shortly.” The tiniest bit of annoyance tinged Oswald comment, reminding Bruce that the Penguin and the Joker would collaborate when mutually beneficial, but neither man was a big fan of the other.  “Randolph, here, will attend to your every need.” Randolph bowed slightly.  “I hope you have a wonderful evening.” Oswald added, leaving the room.  Randolph took Bruce’s drink order and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Bruce sat there a moment, feeling a tad awkward, sitting at the table alone.  The door opened and a tall dark-haired gent stepped into the room.  Bruce looked up inquisitively at the handsome, lightly-tanned man, who appeared to have stepped off the cover of GQ magazine.  He wondered if the fellow had accidentally come into the wrong room.  Then he spoke and Bruce’s eyes grew wide.

“Hellloo Brucey, sorry to keep you waiting.” The Joker announced, reaching the table in a few long strides.  He grabbed the back of Bruce’s chair, pulling it away from the table.  He flopped down on the startled man’s lap.  “Who am I kidding.  I’m worth the wait.” He laughed, throwing back his head and flinging an arm over Bruce’s shoulder.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Bruce felt the sudden slap of warm weight on his groin, but it was Batman who instinctively reacted.  He seized the thin man by the forearm, flinging him off his lap and throwing him to the floor.  In less than a second, he was atop the Joker, straddling the man, his knees pinning the Joker’s arms to the floor.  Batman lifted his fist, stopping mid-swing to turn at the sound of the startled waiter’s gasp.  Randolph stood wide-eyed at the door, holding a drink on his tray.

Bruce quickly jumped to his feet, while the Joker lay sprawled on the floor, cackling madly.  The Joker looked up at Randolph, as Bruce returned to his seat.

“You really should knock next time.” The Joker grinned, lifting himself from the floor.  Randolph took a step backwards.  “No no, don’t go.  Bring the drink to the table.” The Joker said, taking a seat, making way for the man to reach the table.  As Randolph set the tray down, the Joker tapped his wrist with a gloved hand.  “Be a dear and bring me a large tumbler of that special concoction Oswald has imported from Tennessee.” Randolph flinched lightly at the touch, but quickly composed himself, placing Bruce’s drink on the table.

“Of course, sir, right away.” Randolph replied, handing each man a menu and quickly exiting the room.  Bruce glared at the Joker, fiery-eyed and stone-faced.  The Joker met his gaze.

“I always dreamed about seeing that fire in your eyes.” The Joker said thoughtfully.  “It’s every bit as fierce and magnificent as I imagined.  Admit it, my mere presence ignites a blaze inside you.”

“That’s not what we came here to talk about.” Bruce snapped, snatching his glass from the table and taking hearty gulp.

“Yes, have a cold drink.  You do seem a bit hot under the collar.  Remember, you have a reputation to maintain.  Bruce Wayne, the fainthearted, soft-spoken pacifist.”  Both men turned at the sound of a light tap on the door.  “Come in.” The Joker called out.  Randolph entered, placing Joker’s drink on the table.  The man straightened, his hands folded in front of him.

“Would you gentleman like an appetizer?” He asked.

“Could you give us a few minutes.” Bruce replied.

“Of course.” Randolph nodded, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him.  The Joker rose, pulling a black rectangular device from his inner jacket.  Bruce glanced at it and retrieved his briefcase from the floor, placing it on the table.  He opened it and took a similar looking device out.  Both men began walking around the room, scanning it for bugs.  The Joker found a hidden eye and taped a flesh colored band aid across it.  Bruce found another, covering it with black tape.  The men performed a complete sweep of the room, disabling numerous surveillance devices.  Bruce removed a white circular device from his briefcase and placed it in the middle of the table.

“What’s that?” Joker asked.

“White noise machine.  It’ll make our words difficult to pick up.” The Joker nodded and pointed to the mid-sized crystal chandelier in the middle of the ceiling.  Bruce grabbed a couple of the burgundy cloth napkins and pulled a chair beneath the chandelier, getting up and tying the napkins around it.  He hopped off the chair and looked around the room, now bathed in a dark red glow.  The Joker was already seated at the table.

“Ah Brucey, you really know how to set the mood.” The Joker teased with a chuckle.  Bruce rolled his eyes with a grimace.  _Remember, this is about getting your blood back and finding a cure._ He told himself, joining the Joker on the opposite side the circular table.

“Have you decided what you want to eat?” Bruce asked gruffly.  The Joker slid his chair around the table, almost thigh to thigh with Bruce.  Bruce shot Joker a dark look, which the other man totally ignored.  Instead he looked Bruce in the eye and nodded.  Bruce lifted his menu.

“Oh!” Joker exclaimed.  “You mean from the menu.” Joker chuckled, tilting his head closer and looking at the menu in Bruce’s hand.  Bruce bit back a grin.  “Too late, I already saw it.” The Joker said, his finger tapping the corner of Bruce’s mouth.  “You smiled a lot more in Europe.”

“No, I didn’t.” Bruce responded, his eyes focused on the menu.

“You don’t remember do you?” The Joker prodded.  There was a knock at the door, and Bruce looked up with relief.

“Come right in.” Bruce said.  Randolph stepped in, a confused look on his face, as he stared at the napkin draped chandelier.  Saying nothing about it, he walked over to the table, took both men’s dinner orders and left.

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember.  By the time we got to Paris, you were pretty loopy most of the time.” Joker said, picking up the conversation right where he left off.

“I remember.  I remember the legions of cultish followers, hanging on your every word.  Ready to tear me to shreds, if I dared to touch a hair on their master’s head.”

“What can I say.  I’ve got charisma!” The Joker laughed, lifting his hands, palms outstretched.

“Narcissistic personality disorder, that’s what you’ve got.” Bruce mumbled.  The Joker leaned closer, his lips at Bruce’s ear.

“And what kind of personality disorder do you have Batsy?” The Joker whispered.

“I’m not the one that’s insane.” Bruce retorted.

“Hmm, a clever man once said, insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  Does that remind you of anyone?”

“That’s not what we came here to talk about!” Bruce hissed, slamming his fists on the table, the liquid sloshing in his glass.

“Look at you.  You’re just dying to punch me, aren’t you?  That rage, burning inside you, just screaming to get out.  You tell yourself you’re Batman for the city. To keep it safe. But you know that’s not really why.”

“SHUT UP!” Bruce yelled, grabbing Joker by the collar.  Both men’s heads turn, hearing a tap the door.  The Joker smiled, as Bruce released his collar. 

“Entrer.” Joker chortled happily, leaning back in his seat.  Hearing the Joker speak French, tugged at something in the back of Bruce’s mind.  Triggering a response, he didn’t understand, as his body grew warm and tingly…expectant.  Bruce grabbed his glass, downing the rest of his ginger ale in a few quick gulps. 

Randolph came in, carrying a large tray of food.  Bruce focused his attention on the waiter, the plates of food, the pleasant aromas wafting up from the dishes.  Randolph was swift and efficient, serving the men with the necessary decorum and exiting the room.  Bruce bowed his head, hands together, fingers laced.  The Joker laughed, the sound resembling a hiccup.

“Don’t tell me you’re saying grace.” He mocked.  Bruce was silent, head still bowed.  “Fine.  I’ll join in.  Thank God, the food is here!” The Joker exclaimed without a hint of piety, grabbing his fork. 

Bruce smirked, amused despite himself _.  That’s just like him.  Even his prayers are a joke._   The two men ate in silence, the only sound the tinkle of utensils hitting plates.

“OW!” The Joker cried.  “I cut myself!” Bruce looked up, alarmed to see the bright red drops falling from the man’s hand and staining the tablecloth.  “Kiss it and make it better.” The Joker teased darkly; thrusting his bleeding digit into Bruce’s face.  Bruce clenched his fists tightly, his body vibrating with rage.  He knew what the Joker was trying to do.  In the moment, he wasn’t sure who he was angrier with… the Joker for pulling this stunt or himself for being unable to resist.

He snatched the Joker by the wrist, wanting to push his hand away.  Instead he pulled it closer, his mouth opening, his tongue sliding out, capturing the sweet red nectar before another drop could fall.  The long slender digit disappeared between his lips. 

The Joker sat back, smiling, arm outstretched, as he watched the tension draining from Bruce’s body.  It was a beautiful sight to behold.  Bruce, his eyes closed as he suckled.  His cheeks hollowing, his lips twitching in rapture, as his greedy mouth worked the shallow cut for every drop he could get. 

The Joker felt his body reacting to Bruce’s ministrations.  He didn’t flinch, as Bruce’s teeth and tongue toyed with the wound, coaxing it wider.  The pain was just the cherry on top.  The Joker’s other hand was in Bruce’s lap, massaging the hot hardness rising there.  Bruce moaned around his finger.  Without warning, the Joker pulled his hands away.

“That’s enough.  You don’t want to spoil your dinner.” The Joker tittered.  Bruce looked at him with soft, needy eyes.

“Please, give me back the blood you took.  I can’t go on like this.”

“Au contraire, mon ami.  This is the only way we can go on.” The French again.  Bruce knew there was something he should remember, but he pushed the thought away.

“P-Please…”

“Please, please you say?  Where’s the anger?  Where’s the rage?  Where’s the need to pummel and bruise?” Bruce blinked at the Joker’s words, his mouth falling open.

“It’s gone.” Bruce muttered, his eyes widening as the realization hit him.

“Good.  Now let’s get out of here.” The Joker said rising from his seat.  Bruce looked up at him, his eyebrows raised.  The Joker took a few steps toward the door, then turned around and looked back at Bruce.  “Well?  Are you coming?”

Bruce slid his chair away from the table, still seated.  The Joker placed his hands on his hips and made an exaggerated roll of his eyes. With a loud, weary sigh, Joker went back to Bruce and sat on his lap, straddling the wide-eyed man.  Joker yanked him forward by his tie, their noses almost touching.  

“Don’t you think we’ve already given Pengy enough of a show?  Now.Let’s.Go.” Joker hissed, standing and pulling Bruce up with him by his tie.  Bruce rose reluctantly but didn’t put up a fight.

“Go where?”  Bruce asked, snatching his tie from Joker’s fist.

“Anywhere without microphones and cameras.”

“Fine, I know a place.  I’ll get my things.” Bruce said returning to the table.

 

Several minutes later, in the Penguin’s surveillance room…

“Get anything interesting?” Penguin asked the nervous little man sitting at a console in front of dozens of video monitors.

“Not much boss.  They disabled just about every device in the room.  But I got this before they did it.” He said, hunched over the console, his fingers moving at a blur.  An image of the private dining room appeared on a screen.  Penguin leaned forward, watching intently as the second man entered the dining room and plopped down on Bruce’s lap.  He grinned, as he saw Bruce take the thin man to the floor.

“Play that back.” Penguin ordered, impatiently.  The technician quickly complied.  “I’ve seen than move before.  In fact, I’d swear I’ve been on the other side of it on more than one occasion.”  He smirked.  “Good job, Whitey, this is very interesting, indeed.”

 

Later, in a high-rise apartment not far from Wayne Enterprises…

Joker walked through the door, taking in the spotless, mid-sized living room and new looking furnishings. He kept moving, checking the place out.  He reached the bedroom, opening the door and stepping inside.  Bruce followed, pursing his lips when the Joker walked into the adjoining bathroom and shut the door behind him.  He didn’t like having the man out of his sight.  He walked up to the bathroom door and placed his hand on the knob.  Then he reconsidered, dropping his hand and sitting down on the side of the bed. 

 _This was supposed to be a meeting to negotiate the terms for returning my blood, but we hardly broached the subject._   Bruce inwardly groaned, pounding a fist on his thigh.  _I can’t let him distract me again._   Bruce held his head down, his face buried in his hands.    _I need to be strong._

_But I wonder if I can…_

_the mere thought of his blood…_

_awakens a yearning deep inside me,_

_like a foul, burrowing creature gnawing at my gut._

Bruce looked up at the sound of the bathroom door opening.  The Joker strolled out, his jacket thrown over a shoulder, his shirt wide open and no longer tucked in his pants.  Bruce stared at his white face and pale torso, rippling with muscle definition one would not expect on a frame so thin.  The Joker noted the confusion painted across Bruce’s face.

“I needed to ditch the makeup.  Let my skin breeeeathe!” He sighed with a long exhalation, tossing his jacket over a nearby chair.  The Joker leaned over, his lips a hairsbreadth from Bruce’s ear.  “And what do you need Brucey?” The Joker placed a finger on Bruce’s lips.  “No need to answer.  I already know.” The Joker proclaimed, standing tall.  Bruce’s entire body tensed up, as he saw the Joker pull a switchblade from his sleeve garter and draw a thin line across his nipple.  The cut immediately welled up with blood.

Amazed at how swiftly and smoothly the Joker had cut himself, Bruce was momentarily frozen by indecision.  The coherent part of his mind urged him to grab the knife, but the hungry creature gnawing at his core wanted blood.  Both sides won, as Bruce shot up, one hand grabbing for the knife and his other arm wrapping around the Joker’s torso and flinging him face up onto the bed.  The knife fell from Joker’s hand, a wide smile spreading across the pale man’s face, as Bruce’s hot, hungry mouth sucked at his chest.

Bruce licked at the blood engorged cut, the Joker’s blood-weeping nipple deliciously hard and taut against his tongue.  Bruce’s tongue swirled around the heated nub of flesh, as a long moan oozed from Joker’s lips.  The sound like a siren’s song to Bruce’s ears, spurring him on.

“YESSSSS!” The Joker shrieked, his body arching up to Bruce’s lips.  Bruce’s teeth worried the wound, his entire body tingling as it was rewarded by the fresh, warm flow coating his tongue.  The Joker felt Bruce’s hardness nudging against his thigh and he pushed upward intensifying the contact, as his own throbbing beast ground against Bruce’s abdomen.

The Joker grabbed a thick handful of Bruce’s hair and tugged wickedly.  Bruce’s gasping groan vibrated deliciously against the Joker’s sensitive skin, as Bruce began thrusting against him.  He lifted Bruce’s head, the sight of the man’s swollen lips, painted red with blood, sent a shiver of delight coursing through the Joker.

“Now we negotiate.”  The Joker said, peering into Bruce’s pleading eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update. I'll try to do better with subsequent chapters.

Chapter 9

 

“What?” Bruce croaked, giving the Joker a blank stare.   The Joker slapped him across the face and shoved Bruce off his body.  Bruce gasped in a mixture of pain and surprise, as the Joker jumped to his feet and looked down at Bruce, still splayed across the bed, rubbing his cheek. 

Bruce felt as if he had been cruelly yanked from a warm, dream-like embrace.  He slowly rose to a seated position.  The movement making him acutely aware of his erection, still visible beneath the fabric of his trousers.  He looked up at the Joker, his eyes roving over the pale expanse of his taut, muscular abdomen and moving upward to the man’s bite-reddened nipple.    _Odd, I never noticed how beautiful he is.  I want more..._  Bruce thought, ignoring the little voice in the back of his head telling him he must be mad.

“Get it together old boy.” The Joker barked.  “Have you forgotten why we’re heeere?”

“No, I haven’t forgotten.  But I think it can wait.” Bruce answered with a grin, his fingers walking up the Joker’s muscle-rippled torso.  Bruce’s fingers continued to travel upward, reaching the Joker’s nipple and giving it a gentle flick.

“ _Heyyy_ , what are you doing?”  The Joker asked, his body tensing, as Bruce reached over and picked up the knife on the bed.  The Joker’s eyes widened, as Bruce slid the blade across his own palm.  Blood began welling up in the shallow cut and Bruce extended his bleeding hand toward the Joker.

“What kind of host would I be, if I didn’t offer my guest a drink?” Bruce teased, lifting his hand closer to the Joker’s face.  Bruce stared at the Joker, amused by the way the pale man’s eyes darted back and forth between his face and his hand.  The Joker was clearly conflicted by a desire to stay in control of the situation and a hunger for Bruce’s blood.  Hunger won.

“Fine.” The Joker huffed, grabbing Bruce’s wrist.  The Joker’s tongue, longer than it had any right to be, slowly swiped across Bruce’s palm.  Bruce inhaled sharply.  The warm, wet sensation traveling through his body like electricity.  Bruce felt his cock twitch and realized his attempt to gain the upper hand had failed miserably. 

“Mmmm…mmm.” The Joker hummed against his palm, grinning when he heard Bruce moan.  His grin growing wider when he glanced down at the tent rising in Bruce’s trousers.  The Joker eased down on the bed beside Bruce, making an obscenely loud slurp, as he lapped at Bruce’s palm again.  His other hand reached between Bruce’s legs and firmly squeezed the fabric covered bulge at his crouch. 

Bruce gasped, it felt even better than he imagined it would.  The realization frightened Bruce, forcing him to admit that something deep inside him had craved this for a long time.  The Joker released Bruce’s wrist and leaned toward him, his lips at Bruce’s ear.

“Tell yourself, it’s just the blood.  It’ll be easier for you that way.” The Joker whispered, his words a warm caress on Bruce’s ear.  Bruce gulped in surprise; it was like the man could read his mind.  The Joker squeezed him again and Bruce groaned, shifting his pelvis to intensify the contact.  “Maybe you should take these off.” The Joker said, hooking a finger into the waistband of Bruce’s slacks and giving a little tug.  “After all, it’s getting a little warm in here.” The Joker added, standing up and walking into the bathroom.

Bruce watched him depart, feeling a deep, inexplicable sense of yearning.  _What’s wrong with me?_   He asked himself.  _How can I feel this way…about him?  It must be the blood.  It’s clouded my mind.  I need to get out of here.  Before I do something, something I’ll regret._ Bruce got to his feet.  He began moving toward the bedroom door.

“Ahh Brucey, getting cold feet?” Bruce stopped moving at the sound of the Joker’s voice behind him.  He silently cursed himself, as he realized he wasn’t strong enough to walk away.  He slowly turned around, his mouth falling open as he saw the Joker.  The man was completely naked with nearly half a dozen, freshly opened cuts decorating his body.  Bruce bit his lip, as he stared in fascination at the thin rivulets of blood flowing from every one of them. 

“Do you remember these?  Your love taps.” The Joker chuckled darkly, his hand sliding over his body as he approached Bruce.

A part of Bruce wanted to turn and run, but he couldn’t move.  His eyes drawn to the Joker’s body like a moth to a flame.  His lips twitched, but no words came forth.  He could barely draw a breath.  He could only stare, transfixed by the sight before him.

“Just a few of my mementos from our lovely times together.  Surely you remember this one.” The Joker said, his finger tracing an open cut across his bicep.  “The night you stopped me from bombing the orphanage.  I dropped the detonator when you hit me with a batarang.” The Joker lifted his dripping, red fingertip and smeared the blood across his smiling lips. 

“OOOH, but this one is my favorite.” The Joker trilled giddily, lifting his fist just inches from Bruce’s face.  He slowly unfurled his fingers, displaying a cut oozing in the center of his palm.  “You gave me this the day I stopped you from killing the Riddler.  Your blade went right through my hand.  Oh yes, that one was a hoot!” He laughed, taking his bloody hand and wrapping it around his cock.  The Joker stroked himself, his already erect penis growing larger as he painted it in blood.  The Joker sat on the edge of the bed, stroking his long, rock-hard member.  “Brucey, you’ve been such a good host.  The least I can do is offer you dessert.”

Bruce came closer, his gait stiff, as if he was walking in his sleep.  His eyes were pinned to the Joker’s swollen, bloody rod.  The Joker’s hand was still bleeding as it slowly moved up and down his shaft, drops of blood spattering his balls and the carpet beneath him.  Bruce stood in front of him, his mouth hanging open as he stared, unable to tear his eyes away.  The coppery smell of blood reached Bruce’s nostrils.  The scent, like a powerful pheromone, seemed to ignite a fire within him.  Bruce dropped to his knees, his face only inches away from the Joker’s glistening, blood-smeared cock.  Bruce hesitated, his tongue sliding over his upper lip.

“C’mon Batsy, you know you want to do more than just look.” The green-haired villain teased.  “Have a taste.  I’ve made it all hot and juicy, just for you.” The Joker tilted his shaft forward, its tip brushing Bruce’s mouth.  He slid the head across Bruce’s bottom lip, smearing it with blood and pre-cum.  And that was it.  The thin thread of reason, holding Bruce at bay, suddenly snapped and the Joker’s cock disappeared between his lips.

The Joker gasped, as Bruce’s hot, hungry mouth enveloped him.  In one smooth, fluid stroke Bruce devoured him, taking in the entire bloody shaft.  Only stopping when his lips reached the hand the Joker had wrapped around the base of his cock.  The taste and the feel of the Joker’s hard cock, plunging down Bruce’s throat, drove the dark knight wild.

Bruce’s cheeks hollowed out, as he sucked the Joker’s meat with fierce abandon.  His swirling tongue exploring every bulging vein and succulent ridge.  Nothing had ever tasted so good.  The Joker was literally quivering beneath him, the pale man’s eyes closed, and head thrown back; as he moaned in ecstasy.  The sound was like music to Bruce’s ears, as he began to bob up and down on his thick, delicious treat.  Bruce’s cock throbbed painfully in his pants.  He had never felt so consumed by raw desire.  If the Joker felt this good sliding down his throat, what would it feel like to have those bright red lips clasped around his cock.  Bruce wanted…no, needed to find out.  Bruce pulled off the crazy clown’s cock with a wet pop, rising to his feet.

“What the hell Brucey!” The Joker hissed, baring his teeth.  “It’s just getting to my favorite part.”

“I’ve got other parts for you to get to.”  Bruce replied, as he kicked off his shoes and began to unbutton his shirt. 

“ _Heh heh_ , Batsy, never knew you had a sense of humor.   You’re usually all grim and brooding.  I guess you just needed a couple of uh, drinks to loosen up.” The Joker chuckled, standing to unfasten Bruce’s slacks.  The Joker leaned over and whispered in Bruce’s ear.  “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re even looser when I get through with you.”

Bruce caught the inference of the Joker’s words and was surprised to feel his cock swell at the suggestion.  The idea of the villain being buried deep inside him was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling.  Before his mind could dive too deeply into that labyrinth of contradictions, he was distracted by the Joker snatching his briefs down to his knees and the cool air hitting his cock.

“My my, I see someone has risen to the occasion.” The Joker giggled, his bright eyes goggling Bruce’s massive erection.  “Time to get the show on the road.”  The Joker sang, swinging Bruce around and shoving him onto the bed.  Bruce, shocked with how easily the Joker had thrown him down; stared, gaping as the Joker snatched off his trousers and briefs in one smooth flourish.  “Ahh, much better.” The Joker grinned, throwing the garments to the floor. 

Bruce scooted up on the bed, putting a little distance between him and the Joker.  _I must have lost my mind!  I can’t do this!_   The remnants of Bruce’s rational mind screamed, as he looked at the Joker standing naked at the foot of the bed.  The Joker took in the expression on Bruce’s face, his smile growing wider.

“Oh Brucey, having second thoughts?” The Joker asked; the compassionate tone of his words betrayed by the devilish glint in his eyes.  “Well, it’s too late for that!” The Joker added gleefully, jumping atop the bed and straddling Bruce.  The Joker rolled his hips, his balls grinding against the base of Bruce’s cock.  Bruce gasped at the contact, his flagging erection finding new life.  The Joker noticed, an obscenely wide smile splitting his face.  The Joker's hand went to his mouth, reopening the wound on his palm and spreading the fresh blood across his lips.

Bruce’s mouth fell open in amazement, only to be covered, a fraction of a second later, by the crazy clown’s bloody kiss.  Bruce tasted his blood tinged tongue, as it snaked between his lips.  His indecision melted away like a snowflake landing on a burning coal.  He returned the pale man’s kiss with a fevered passion; their lips, tongues, and teeth colliding with an almost painful force.  Each man savored the taste, feel, and heat of the other’s mouth, as they sought to devour the other.  Their bodies joined, skin to skin, groin to groin; as they rutted against each other.

The Joker broke their kiss, placing his bleeding hand over Bruce’s mouth.  The villain’s sweet, red juices dripped between Bruce’s lips, catapulting the dark knight to a whole new level of sexual excitement.  Bruce’s mind, body and soul were bombarded by waves of pleasure as he thrust his throbbing cock against the Joker’s. 

In a distant corner of his mind, Bruce was aware that the Joker had reopened the wound on his hand and was lapping at Bruce’s blood.  As each man sucked the other’s blood their euphoria spiraled; reaching breathtaking heights, as their hot, sweaty bodies pounded together in a frenzy of wild, animalistic lust.  Bruce grabbed the Joker’s ass with his free hand, his fingers sinking into the skin with a bruising force, as he sought to intensify the contact between their hard hungry cocks.  The sound of skin slapping together filled the room, the scent of sex heavy in the air.

“OH SHIT!  OH FUCK! OOOOH MY GOD!” Bruce screamed, as his ecstasy reached a fever pitch, blindingly bright fireworks exploding behind his eyes, as his world went white.  His cock pulsated like a piston; endorphins flooding his system as indescribably intense pleasure surged through his body and set every nerve ending afire. It felt like a bolt of lightning searing through his dick, as his cock erupted; spurt after spurt of thick creamy ejaculate bursting from his body.    

The Joker felt Bruce’s steaming wet juices coating his cock, as Bruce’s hand clutched his ass in an iron grip.  His entire body shook with ecstasy, his toes curling and back arching.  It was more than the Joker could withstand and he begin cackling wildly; his orgasm ripping from his body with tidal force.  Set adrift in a turbulent sea of powerful sensations, his entire body throbbed in sync with his exploding cock, the world tilting and flinging him into the stratosphere.  

The two men clung to each other, ripples of pleasure still tingling through their bodies, as they sought to catch their breath.  The Joker felt an unaccustomed warmth spreading through him, as he held Bruce in his arms, basking in the afterglow.

Bruce buried his nose in the Joker’s thick green hair, relishing the scent of him.  His chest swelled with a feeling of contentment beyond anything he could put into words.  It didn’t make sense, it was totally insane; but it just felt right. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get back to this story. I hope there’s still someone out there interested in reading it.

_Is he sniffing my hair?_ The Joker wondered, his brow furrowing, as he laid next to the taller man, his head resting on Bruce’s shoulder _._ He felt his hair rustle gently, as Bruce exhaled _.   Oh Batsy, you lil’ darling, going soft and sweet on me.  So sweet, I’d like to cut you into little pieces and eat you all up._ The Joker mused, glancing at the knife lying on the nightstand.The Joker’s chain of thought was interrupted, when Bruce’s body shifted; the dark knight’s obvious arousal nudging the pale man’s torso. _OH MY!  Not totally soft, definitely hard where it counts!  Maybe the knife can wait.  There’s more than one way to stab a bat._ The Joker silently noted with a chuckle.  

“What’s so funny?” Bruce whispered; his lips warm against the Joker’s ear.

“Me.  You.  All of this.” The villain answered, lifting his arm in a wide sweeping motion.  “Tell me Brucey, how long have you dreamed of us being together…like this?”

“It wasn’t something I liked to think about it.” Bruce replied tersely, staring up at the ceiling.

“Ahh, but you have thought about it, haven’t you?”

“How could I not?  Your constant taunting, teasing…  The way you look at me…  The way you lick your lips, as you stare into my eyes.” Bruce sighed, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.

“You mean, like this?” The Joker grinned; his tongue slowly rolling over his upper lip, a succulent sheen trailing in its wake.  Bruce growled, his hands grabbing the Joker’s face, as their mouths collided.  The Joker’s eyes grew large, as Bruce’s tongue pierced his lips like a hot, hungry invader demanding what belonged to him. 

The ferocity of Bruce’s kiss caught the pale man off guard, but he quickly recovered; responding with a fiery passion.  Their mouths fought for control, their tongues slashing wildly, like wrestlers doing battle in a wet, slippery ring.  It was their special dance.  The moves were new, but the rapturous fury burned every bit as bright.  Their bodies plastered together, writhing with insatiable hunger, to music only they could hear.

The villain’s voluptuous lips moved across Bruce’s face, reaching his earlobe and trapping it with his teeth.  He increased the pressure; biting but not breaking the skin.  A sound, somewhere between a moan and a hiss, slid from Bruce’s throat. 

“What else did we do in your dreams?” The Joker teased, his tongue languidly snaking the shell of Bruce’s ear.  The Joker felt Bruce’s body tensing in his arms, but the hero didn’t speak.  The Joker’s smile widened.  _Aww, I’ve made my Batsy blush.  Those must have been delightfully dirty little dreams._ The Joker giggled at the thought.

Bruce felt his face grow uncomfortably warm.  He tried to swallow, surprised by how dry his throat had suddenly become.  He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it again.  _Oh God!  Why did I ever admit I dreamed about him?_ Bruce silently fretted.  The idea of telling the Joker his oh so secret fantasies made Bruce’s blood run cold.  It also forced Bruce to finally admit something he’d been trying to deny.  He’d been sexually attracted to the Joker for a long time.  Memories of nights lying alone in his bed, after battling the Joker; surged to the forefront of his mind.  How he would touch himself as he thought of the Joker’s firm, wiry body pressed against his as they fought.  Those impossibly long legs wrapped around him; those bright red lips, only a hair’s breadth from crashing against his; and those eyes…a bright green fire, searing into his soul, terrifying, mesmerizing, and strangely the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

**_DING! DING!_ **

The text alert on Bruce’s watch rang.  _Saved by the bell!_   Bruce silently cheered, lifting his arm and glancing at the message on the watch’s screen.  _It’s Jim Gordon, something big must be going down!_   Bruce abruptly sat up, jostling the Joker, who had been leaning on his chest.  The Joker’s eyes widened, only to narrow a second later, as he glared menacingly at Bruce tapping icons on his watch.

“I need to—” Bruce began, then he was shocked into silence, as the Joker body-slammed him, knocking him down, face up on the bed.

“NO!  NO!  **_NO!_** ” The Joker yelled, holding Bruce down by the shoulders, their faces only inches apart.  “You are not about to go running off after some other villain, when you’ve got _me_ right here!” His spittle tinged breath was hot on Bruce’s face.

Bruce looked up into his eyes and knew he had lost the moment their pupils met.  Intense would be an understatement, the Joker’s powerful gaze cut straight to his core.  Bruce couldn’t deny that both men fed their madness every time they were together.  But tonight, they had truly gorged themselves; taking it over a line Bruce thought he’d never cross.

But now that the line was crossed, Bruce could never go back.  He knew their mad games had exploded into full blown insanity.  A nagging voice in the back of his head told him _run, fast as you can, far as you can.  How can you forget who this man he is?  How can you forget the things he’s done?_ But that voice was only a whisper compared to the roar of excitement throbbing through his body, as he met the ferocity in the Joker’s eyes.  _We’re jumping off the cliff together._ Bruce told himself. _I have no idea where we’ll land or if we’ll survive the fall, but that’s the best part._

“Come with me.” Bruce said.  The Joker blinked, releasing his grip on Bruce’s shoulders and sitting up.  “I need your help.” Bruce hurriedly added.  The Joker’s eyes lit up, but only for a moment, before his face hardened and he cocked his head to the side, peering at Bruce suspiciously.

“Help you how?” The Joker inquired, staring at Bruce through narrowed eyes.

“Bane and Crane escaped from Arkham together.  My hunch is they’ve gone to one of Crane’s secret laboratories to whip up some venom for Bane.  And Crane probably has some fear toxin stashed there too.  I need your help to find them.  You’ve been to Crane’s labs before.”

“You know Brucey, chasing bad guys isn’t exactly my shtick.” The Joker replied with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

“But this is Bane.  The man that tried to kill both of us.” Bruce pleaded.

“Hmm, that is a good point.  Allowing the man that tried to kill me to keep breathing doesn’t do any good for my rep.  It might give the other rogues ideas.”

“The plan is to return them both to Arkham, not kill them.” Bruce hissed through clenched teeth.

“Yeesh, you’re no fun at all.  OK, I’ll try to stick to the script.” The Joker grinned, giving Bruce a less than reassuring pat on the back.  Bruce grimaced, unable to ignore the malevolent glint in the Joker’s eyes and the cruel curl of his lips.

 _I’m probably going to regret this._ Bruce thought. _But the Joker’s my only hope of finding Crane’s lab quickly enough to stop the inevitable mayhem those two will create once Bane has a fresh batch of venom.  I’ll just need to keep my eye on him._

“C’mon, we better get a move on if we want to stop them in time.” Bruce said, snatching his underwear from the floor.

“Bruce you’re not quite dressed for the occasion.” The Joker smirked, pulling on his shirt.

“But I will be.” Bruce said, opening the closet and pulling out an oversized briefcase.  He put the briefcase on the bed and opened it.  The Joker looked over his shoulder and spied the Batsuit components packed inside.

“Oooo, I always wanted to see how you put that thing on.” The Joker said, clapping his hands together and doing a little happy dance.  “Though to be honest, I’ve wanted to see you take it off even more.” He chuckled darkly.  Bruce shot him a sideways glance but couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

The Joker finished getting dressed first and plopped sideways into an armchair to watch Bruce snap together all the pieces of armor that made up the Batsuit.  The Joker’s swaying legs were dangling over the chair’s arm, his back leaning against its other arm; his eyes fixed on Bruce. Bruce felt his cheeks grow warm under the Joker’s unrelenting gaze.  Bruce tried to dress faster but the weight of the Joker’s scrutiny was unsettling, and he accidentally dropped his codpiece.   Bruce swore under his breath.  The Joker jumped from the chair, grabbing the fallen piece of armor.

“Here, let me help you.” The Joker said, placing the armored codpiece near Bruce’s groin.  “Hmm, now how does this work?” The Joker giggled, massaging the codpiece against the sensitive area of Bruce’s anatomy in a way that seemed more like fondling, than helping him get dressed.  The Joker grinned, seeing the hint of an erection under Bruce’s black undersuit.  Bruce snatched the armor from his hands.

“I’ll do it!” Bruce growled, snapping the piece into place.

“Like I said, you’re no fun.”

“This isn’t a game to me.”  Bruce said, punching a series of buttons on his gauntlet.

“Liar.” The Joker mumbled under his breath, pulling a phone from his pocket and walking out the room.

 

Forty-five minutes later, in the Batmobile…

They had driven clear across town.  The Joker was leaning back in the passenger seat, his feet propped up on the dashboard and his hands casually laced behind his head.  Batman was driving, attempting to focus on the road and ignore the nonchalant clown seated beside him.  Batman would have thought the man asleep, but he was quietly humming a tune.  Something about the Joker’s laissez-faire attitude irked him and he questioned, for the umpteenth time, his decision to involve the clown at all.  

The Joker abruptly sat up, his feet hitting the footwell and his extended finger pointed forward.

“Make a right turn at that alley.” The Joker commanded, his eyes bright and smile gleaming.  Batman was startled by the clown’s sudden change in demeanor, but he reacted instantly; making a sharp turn into the alley.  The sudden turn made Joker’s body swerve to the left and his shoulder collided with Batman.

“I told you to put on your seat belt.” Batman grumbled.  The Joker giggled and continue to lean against the Bat.

“C’mon, don’t tell me you’re still shy about physical contact.” The villain teased, placing a hand on Batman’s thigh.  The hero grimaced and rolled his eyes, oddly comforted by the weight of the Joker’s head on his shoulder. 

“Pull over behind that dumpster.” The Joker instructed, sitting up and pointing ahead.  Batman did as he was told and looked out, glancing back and forth between the two buildings on each side of the alley.

“Which one is it?”

“Neither one.” The Joker replied.  “We’re gonna hafta hoof it from here.”

“Hoof it?”

“Well, roof it to be exact.  Scary’s gonna have lookouts at street level and getting to the building from the rooftops is the best way not to be seen.  Then you can sneak in, swoop down from the shadows and vanquish your foes.  I know you _love_ doing that.”

“Fine.”  Batman huffed, mildly annoyed by the clown’s teasing tone and even more annoyed that the man was right.  “I’ll take the rooftops.  Which building am I trying to get to?”  Batman asked, turning away from his infuriating companion and pressing a button on the dashboard.  The tumbler’s driver side hatch lifted and the cool night air floated in.  The Joker looked up at the closed hatch above him and frowned. 

“I’ll need to show you the way.”  The Joker stated flatly.

“No.”  Batman barked.  “Just give me the address.  I can figure it out.”

“I’m going with you.” The Joker said, folding his arms and giving the hero a hard stare.  The Caped crusader returned the look with a menacing glare of his own.  Their staring contest only lasted a few seconds, before Bruce exhaled with a heavy sigh and opened the hatch on the passenger side.

“Just make sure you can keep up.” The Joker taunted, springing to his feet and jumping from the hatch, leaving Batman alone in the tumbler with nothing but the echoes of the clown’s laughter and the click-clack of his shoes racing across the asphalt.  The hero groaned, hoisting himself from the vehicle and securing it; before he gave chase.

The Joker was almost at the top of a nearby fire escape when he heard the thunk of a grappling hook hitting the edge of the roof above him.  The Joker grinned; confident he could still reach the top before Batman.

Batman stood in the alley and gave the cord attached to the grappling hook a firm tug.  Satisfied that it would hold, he made the cord retract, gripping it firmly as it pulled him up the building.  He reached the top just moments after the Joker.  A soft grunt escaped his lips, as he lifted himself to the rooftop. 

The dark knight hit the roof running, the adrenaline surging through his veins, as he saw the Joker less than 20 feet away.  He had nearly closed the difference between them when the Joker reached the edge of the roof and leapt.  The tall man was not only fast, but agile; his long legs curling upward before flying forward with a dancer’s grace as he propelled himself over the gap between two buildings. 

Batman was hot on his heels, leaping over the abyss between the buildings and nailing the landing with a practiced precision.  _The chase is on!_  The hero’s heart sang as he dashed after the virile villain streaking across the wide, flat roof.  Bruce was unaware that he was grinning from ear-to-ear until he felt the tightness in his cheeks.

The Joker reached the edge of the roof and jumped atop the parapet, spinning on one foot to face his rapidly approaching pursuer.  Batman gasped, as the Joker gave him a quick wave and jumped backwards, falling straight down the side of the building.  Batman ran to the parapet, letting loose a huge sigh of relief, as he saw the Joker standing on a wide ledge less than 10 feet below him.

The Joker stripped out of his jacket, flinging it over a power line, grabbing a sleeve in each hand and sliding down the wire like a zip line.  The wire sloped downward, carrying the reckless rogue toward the next building.  Batman looked on in amazement, sure that the wire would not support the careless clown’s weight.  But it did.  The Joker reached the building, getting a foothold on another ledge and snatching his jacket from the wire.  He quickly tied the jacket around his neck like a cape and reached up to grasp the edge of the roof.  He pulled himself atop the roof and turned to Batman, who was still standing on the other building.

Bruce, unwilling to test the wire with his own weight, shot across the distance with his grappling gun.  A few moments later, both men were walking across the roof toward an access door.

“Ah, racing across rooftops together, just like old times, eh?” The Joker chuckled, nudging Batman in the side.

“This better not be just like old times.” The Caped crusader growled, earning a hearty laugh from his companion.  Both men came to a sudden stop, as the access door opened.  The outline of a tall, muscular man appeared in the threshold of the open door.  The man took a step forward and Batman snatched a batarang from his belt, his eyes widening when the Joker grabbed his wrist.

“Wait!” Joker hissed.  “I know this guy.” The man continued walking forward and Batman realized it was the same man he’d fought in the restroom.  The big guy had a nasal splint taped the cross the bridge of his nose.  His eyes hardened and body tensed when he saw Batman, but his posture relaxed as Joker approached him.

“Jaspy, you wily devil, you’ve infiltrated Crane’s team already?” Joker asked, smiling broadly.

“Like you said boss, Crane was desperate for some henchmen.  Took me right on, broken nose and all.  Probably because I brought Truck and a couple of other guys with me.  I told him you were captured by Batman and we were looking for work.”

“Good job.” The Joker said, patting him on the back.  Jasper smiled, practically beaming at the compliment and for the first time Batman noticed Jasper was a rather good looking fellow, around his height and weight with the same strong chin.  _He would look just like me in a Batsuit._   Batman thought, his lips forming a hard line.

“We need to get to Crane and Bane.” Batman abruptly interjected, walking between both men to face the Joker.  Jasper gave him a dirty look and the Joker chuckled, placing a hand on Batman’s chest.

“Of course, but getting a little intel first isn’t a bad idea.” The Joker replied.  He turned to Jasper.  “Tell me, what’s the setup here.”

“The lab’s still on the third floor, both Crane and Bane are there.  Truck’s standing guard outside the lab door.  The other two guys I brought are at street level being lookouts.  Both of those guys are pussies and would probably piss themselves, if Bane came after them.  But they were all I could find on such short notice.  I can throw them a few bucks and tell them their services are no longer needed.  Then I’ll meet you on the third floor.” Jasper said.  The Joker nodded, with a smile and was about to say something when Batman broke in.

“Thank you for your assistance, but I think we can take it from here.  Your services are no longer needed.” Batman said, his voice dark with menacing undertones.  Jasper’s body tensed up, his hands curling into fists.  Joker stepped between the two men, who looked as if they would be trading blows any second now.  He turned to Batman.

“Batsy darling, do I go around barking orders to your Mr. Pennyworth?” The Joker said, raising an eyebrow and poking a finger in the hero’s chest.  Batman opened his mouth then thought better of it and shook his head, glancing down his feet. 

The Joker turned back to Jasper, placing a gentle hand on the man’s cheek.  “Your plan sounded good to me, now go take care of it.” Jasper nodded, his face leaning into the Joker’s palm.  Batman couldn’t help but notice how the big man seemed to melt at the Joker’s touch.  The Joker withdrew his hand and Jasper stood tall, casting Batman an icy glare.

“If you do anything to harm him, I’ll be coming for you.” Jasper growled, turning in a huff and storming off through the access door.  The Joker tittered quietly as he watched the man leave.

“Oh Brucey baby, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were jealous.” The Joker said, barely suppressing a giggle.

“Why does that man look so much like me?  And don’t tell me you don’t see it.” Batman challenged.

“Seriously Batsy, do we have time for this right now?  I thought we were in a rush to catch some bad guys.” Batman didn’t reply, spinning on his heels and marching off for the access door.  The Joker followed, walking with a confident swagger.  _Poor Bats, he’s got a bad case of Jokeritis.  Lucky for him, Dr. J knows exactly what he needs._

 

Meanwhile, in the third-floor lab…

Bane was pacing back and forth in the sterile-looking white room that Crane used as his makeshift lab.  Crane wished he would just sit down somewhere.  The constant the thump-thump of his feet across the floor was more than a tad annoying.  Bane approached Crane, looking over his shoulder at the extra-large beaker of liquid simmering over a flame.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Bane asked, breathing down Crane’s neck.  Crane sighed loudly, turning to the hulking man with a scowl.

“How many times are you going to ask me that?  I told you the venom will take several hours to synthesize.  Some things cannot be rushed.  Why don’t you just have a seat and wait patiently or better yet, go patrol the area or something.  I’m sure word of our escape has reached the Bat by now.  You never know what darkened corner he might be lurking in, ready to pounce.”

“I thought you said he didn’t know the location of this lab.”

“As far as I know, he doesn’t.  But experience has taught me never to underestimate that flying rat.”

“Buen punto.”  Bane agreed, rubbing his chin.  “How much do you know about those henchmen you just hired?”

“I’ve dealt with the one named Jasper before, back when he was working for the Joker.  He’s always been fiercely loyal to that crazy clown.  Kinda surprised he’s still on the street, after the Joker got captured.  But judging by the looks of him, he put up a good fight.  Don’t know much about the other three. Why?”

“I was just thinking; it was awfully convenient the way they just turned up here looking for work.  We’ve only been out a couple of hours.”

“Maybe he heard about it on a police scanner.  I know the Joker had one.”

“Funny, we didn’t hear anything about the Joker being apprehended.  News of that would have spread through Arkham like wildfire.”

“You think they’re plants?” Crane asked, worry lines creasing his forehead.

“Could be.  The Joker and I weren’t exactly on the best terms the last time we met.”

“You two had a run in?”

“Almost two months ago, in Rome.  I broke his arm.”

“Yes, that would definitely get you on his bad side.  Why didn’t you just kill him?”

“Batman saved him.”

“That’s not a big surprise.  Batman’s always saving that maniac’s life.  They’re obsessed with each other, in their own sick twisted way.” Crane said.  Bane nodded, a furrow forming at his brow.

“I’m going out to keep an eye on our hired help.” Bane said, heading for the door.

“Good idea.” Crane replied, relieved to finally get to work in peace.

 

Silently, the pair of unlikely allies made their way down the stairwell to the third floor.  As Batman touched the doorknob, the Joker grabbed his arm.

“I’ll go first.” The Joker whispered. “Trust me, I know Truck.  He’s a shoot first, ask questions later kinda guy.  This will go better if the first thing he sees is my smiling face rather than your perpetual scowl.”

“Alright, go ahead.” Batman said, taking a step back.  The Joker reached for the door.


	11. Chapter 11

Batman reconsidered, grabbing the Joker’s arm.  The pale man turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“No, I’m not letting you face Bane without me.” Batman said.  The Joker rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, make up your mind.” The Joker groaned, attempting to yank his arm out of the hero’s grasp.  Batman’s grip on the thin arm hardened, while something in his eyes grew softer.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Batman whispered.

“Awww, so sweet.  Worried about little ol’ me.” The Joker chuckled, placing a hand over his heart and batting his lashes.  Batman continued to hold his arm, giving the jester a determined stare.  “Fine.” The Joker sighed, lifting his hand off the doorknob and glancing down at the gauntlet gripping his forearm.  Batman let go.   The Joker rolled his shoulders, standing taller.  “New plan.  There’s a fire escape outside the window to the lab.  Walk back up a flight, find the fire escape, come back down to the third-floor, and wait outside the lab’s window until see me go in.  I’ll wait here to give you time to get there.  The fire escape is halfway around the building, on the west side.”

“Here, take this.” Batman said, handing the Joker a small matchbox sized device.  “Press the little button when you’re ready for me to come in.” The clown nodded, slipping the device into his pocket, as he watched Batman go up the stairs.

 

Meanwhile, in the stairwell below them…

Jasper stomped down the steps scowling, his hands curled into tight fists.  Seeing Batman and the Joker together on the roof was a surprise, but the real shock was seeing the men together without blows flying and blades flashing.  _Why am I shocked?_   He asked himself, his teeth clenching.  _Considering what they were doing the last time I saw them together._   The image of the two men kissing passionately in the restroom, burned painfully in his mind’s eye. 

Jasper shook his head.  _No, it wasn’t like that!  Batman was the aggressor.  He had the Joker’s arms pinned above his head, crushing his body against the wall, forcing their lips to meet._   Jasper’s chest tightened, as he felt his body temperature rising.  _Fucking Batman!  Everyone thinks he’s a hero.  He’s a sexual predator.  That’s what he really is!  Right?_

Jasper was not a stupid man and as much as he wanted to; he could not just conveniently ignore the Joker’s obvious obsession with Batman.  The pale man often appeared to plan crimes with the specific intention of getting Batman’s attention.  Jasper ruefully remembered one night, when the Joker had his intentions for the bat undeniably clear.

 

Fourteen months ago, on the roof of a vacant office complex…

The Joker was holding a group of hostages and had threatened to kill them all, if the dark knight did not show.  Jasper, the Joker, and a band of henchmen stood for hours, on the dirty, dreary roof, awaiting the Bat’s arrival.  But he never came.  The situation evolved into a standoff with dozens of Gotham’s finest.  Using the hostages as both human shields and bargaining chips; the Joker and his band of merry men escaped from the police, fleeing to their hideout.

The Joker was in a foul mood that night, putting a bullet between the eyes of a henchman who’d made a joke about giving a party that the guest of honor failed to attend.  But the goon’s death was not what made the night memorable to Jasper.  It was what happened later.  Something that happened once and never again.

After dispatching the smart-mouthed thug, the Joker stormed off into his room; slamming the door behind him.  The door had only been shut for a few minutes, when the Joker called out for Jasper.   Jasper flinched upon hearing his name.  He considered not answering and dashing out the front door instead. He glanced at the lackeys rolling the dead goon into a tarp, the pool of blood glistening dully on the floor beside him.  He didn’t want to be the hideout’s second casualty of the night.  But his loyalty to and affection for the Joker outweighed his trepidation and he approached the closed door of the Joker’s room.  He reminded himself that the Joker had once saved his life.  Something he’d never seen him do for any of the other henchmen.

Jasper was biting his lip, as he gently tapped on the door to Joker’s room.  Hearing no answer, he placed his ear to the door.  He noted the sounds on the other side—footsteps, the rustle of paper, small items falling to the floor.  He lifted his head.  _Time to man up._   He told himself, straightening his spine and pounding on the door with his fist.

“It’s me, Jasper.” He loudly announced.

“Jaspy, what the hell took you so long.  Get in here!”  The Joker shouted.  Jasper opened the door, stepping inside.  The room was a mess.  It was always a mess, but now it was worse than usual.  The boss was rummaging through his closet; throwing bags, boxes, and miscellaneous items behind his back, obviously looking for something.

“Is there anything I can help to find?” Jasper offered, wading through the clutter on the floor and walking up behind the Joker, who was still busy digging in his closet.

“AH HA!  Here it is!” The pale man declared, abruptly spinning on his heels to face Jasper.  The Joker was holding a cardboard box in both hands and grinning wildly.  “Y’know, I’ve been thinking about tonight.” The Joker said, his words spilling fast and laced with a manic edge.  “There’s no way Batsy would have missed an opportunity to dance with me.  Unless…” The pitch of the Joker’s voice rose with a flourish, as he placed the box on his bed.  “Unless he was physically incapable of being there.  Which means, he’s either out of town or incapacitated.  Either way, it presents us with an excellent opportunity to have a bit of fun at his expense.” 

Jasper nodded mutely, his eyes fixed on the mysterious hatbox-sized carton, as Joker busied himself with ripping it open.  Styrofoam popcorns littered the bed, as the Joker’s hands and dove inside the box.  

Actually, the jester’s assumptions about Batman weren’t too far off the mark.  Bruce Wayne was on his private jet heading back to Gotham, as they spoke.

“Ta Da!” The giddy clown exclaimed, lifting an authentic looking replica of Batman’s cowl from the carton.  Jasper gasped softly.  _It looks just like the real thing!_   _Where did he get that?_  Jasper wondered. 

“Get over here Jaspy!” The clown trilled with a giggle.  Jasper slowly walked over to him.  “Take off your jacket.” The Joker ordered.  Jasper complied, tossing his blazer over a chair.  Jasper stood there, wearing only a black tee shirt and slacks.

“Would you like me to put that on?” Jasper asked, hesitantly reaching for the cowl.

“I’ll do it.” The Joker replied, rising on tiptoes to place the cowl on Jasper’s head.  The Joker placed an index finger on his chin, cocking his head from side to side, as he looked Jasper over.  “Hmm, not bad.” He mumbled under his breath.  “Wait!  I almost forgot.” The Joker said, rushing back to the closet and pulling out a shiny black cape.  He draped it over Jasper’s shoulders, fastening it at the front.  He stepped back to admire his handiwork, grinning insanely.

“Can you imagine how hilarious it will be when the citizens of Gotham see their beloved Batman going on a murderous rampage?” The Joker asked, marveling at how well Jasper’s lips and jawline matched the Caped Crusader’s.

“Joker.” Jasper growled, doing a damned good Batman impersonation.  The Joker’s grin grew wider and Jasper fought back the urge to smile in return.  Maintaining his stoic expression, Jasper took a step toward the pale man.  The cowl…the cape…the excitement gleaming in the Joker’s eyes; all of it, coming together to make Jasper bolder than he’d ever been before.

“What are you planning Clown?” Jasper hissed, his voice deep, dark, dangerous and thoroughly Batman.  Jasper’s arms shot out, shoving the Joker backwards.  The clown fell back on the bed, laughing hysterically; his legs splayed wide.  Jasper’s breath hitched in his throat, as he noticed the bulge at the Joker’s crouch.  He placed a knee on the bed between the Joker’s spread thighs.  He leaned over, planting his palms on the bed, framing the jester’s grinning face.  He stared down at the man beneath him, captured in the magnetic pull of those dancing green eyes.  “What do you want?” Jasper snarled, staying completely in character.

“Guess.” The pale man hissed, glancing down at the bulge in his trousers before looking back up into Jasper’s eyes with a smirk.  Jasper grabbed the clown by the throat, squeezing just hard enough to feel the quickening thrum of the other man’s pulse. 

“Don’t move.” Jasper barked, his free hand reaching for the Joker’s fly.  The Joker obeyed the command, his bright eyes shining as Jasper unzipped his pants and reached inside.  The villain closed his eyes and moaned, as Jasper’s hand wrapped around his cock, freeing it from his briefs.

 _It’s beautiful._   Jasper thought, licking his lips and gazing in wonder at the pale, thick, vein-engorged shaft.  The clown’s eyes popped open at the sensation of wet warmth sliding down his dick.

The illusion was perfect.  Jasper was kneeling on the floor beside the bed.  All the Joker could see from his position was the cowl bobbing up and down on his shaft and the black cape wrapped around broad shoulders.

“Oh Batsy!” The clown moaned, immersing himself in the thrill of his forbidden fantasy.  Jasper hummed in response, the vibrations stirring the clown to new heights.  The Joker lifted his hips from the bed, forcing more of his length to slide down the cowled man’s throat.  Jasper eagerly took every inch, loving the feel and the taste of his Boss’s smooth, hard cock. The Joker’s moans and heavy breathing added deliciously to the mix, making Jasper’s dick swell.  Unable to deny himself any longer, Jasper freed his own aching member from his trousers and begin pumping furiously. 

The Joker looked on in rapture, as _Batman_ devoured him with tightened lips and hollowed cheeks.  _Batman_ slurped loudly, his saliva dripping on the ecstatic clown’s balls.

“OH YES!  YESSSS!  TAKE IT ALL!”  The villain screamed.  He reached out, grabbing the ears of the Batcowl and fucking Jasper’s mouth with a frenzy.  Jasper responded by tightening the grip he held on the Joker’s neck, restricting the pale man’s breath. 

The Joker continued to pound his throbbing girth deeply into Jasper’s wet, tight heat; the lack of airflow adding a rush of dizzying euphoria to every thrust.  _Oh fuck!  Oh shit! OOOOH BATMAAAN!_  The Joker’s frantic mind shrieked, shoving himself inside of Jasper as deeply as he could.  The Joker’s entire being felt ripped asunder by a tsunami-like wave of blinding, blissful ecstasy; his cock pulsating like a piston as he shot load after load of rich, creamy cum into the other man’s throat.

Jasper felt the thin man’s body trembling uncontrollably beneath him; the Joker’s cock growing unbelievably long as it swelled and exploded inside him.  Jasper couldn’t breathe but didn’t care as his throat clenched around the Joker, milking the pale man dry.  He continued to furiously pump his own throbbing beast; his oxygen deprived brain short circuiting and catapulting him into an otherworldly state of deliciously intoxicating delirium.  Jasper’s body shook, as his thick, white ejaculate gushed forth in surge after surge of mind-numbing pleasure, splashing the sheets and dribbling over his fingers. 

The Joker’s spent member slipped from between his lips, and he rested his head on the Joker’s thigh; luxuriating in the post orgasmic glow that seemed to radiate from every pore of his body.  The Joker’s body shifted beneath him and he patted Jasper’s cowl-covered head.

“Good boy.” The pale man purred.  “Now get out.” He added in a harsh, implicitly dangerous tone.  Jasper quickly complied, removing the cowl and cape; and swiftly exiting the room.  Jasper leaned back against the door after he closed it.  He was breathing hard and sweating profusely with a huge grin plastered on his face.

 

Present day…

Jasper didn’t feel like smiling now.  The intimate moment he had shared with the Joker had meant the world to him, but he doubted if the Joker had felt the same way.  _Face it, man, it’s Batman the Joker really wants._   He told himself, his shoulders slumped, and head held low, as he reached the bottom of the stairwell.  Then a thought hit him, as he reached for the door that exited to the street.  _What if Batman wasn’t around anymore?_

 

On the third floor…

Bane walked out the lab’s door into the dimly lit corridor.  Truck, seated and completely absorbed in the video game he was playing on his phone, did not notice Bane’s presence until he heard the loud click of the closing door.  Truck hopped to his feet, shoving the phone in his pocket.

“Hi ya, Boss.” Truck said.  “Anything you need me to do?”

“I need you to be doing the job I hired you for, not playing with your phone.” Bane growled.  “I could have put a bullet through your head before you even looked up.” Truck nodded, looking down at his feet, like the kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  Bane snorted, glancing up and down the empty corridor.  “Where’s the other guy?  The one with a broken nose?”

“Uh, Jasper?  I think he’s downstairs, keeping look out.” Truck sputtered.

“Hopefully, he’s doing a better job than you were.” Bane’s snarled, giving Truck a hard glare.  “If I see you playing with that phone again, I’m going to shove it up your ass.” Bane spat, turning on his heels and marching off down the corridor toward the stairwell.  “Just can’t find good help these days.” Bane grumbled under his breath, trudging down the hall.

 

The Joker was slowly pacing back and forth across the narrow landing of the stairwell, his arms crossed.  _Well, I think I’ve given Batsy enough time to get into position._   He silently decided, shaking out his arms and cocking his head from side to side.  _Showtime!_

 

The Joker opens the door.  Bane is heading down the corridor toward him, less than a dozen feet away.

Their eyes meet.

“ ** _YOU!_** ” Bane’s sneers.                   

The Joker’s smile widens.

“Maldita payaso!”  Bane roars, spittle flying from his lips, murderous rage blazing in his eyes.

He runs forward; huge, unstoppable.

A mountain of a man, he slams into the Joker like a vertical avalanche.

“OOF!” Air’s ripped from the Joker’s lungs, as he lands on the floor under Bane.

There’s the click-swoosh of a switchblade opening.

The blur of a swiping arm.

“UUGH!” Bane grunts, feeling the bite of the blade slashing his side. 

_Not deep—doesn’t matter, I’ve had enough of this bastardo.  Tonight, he dies!_

Bane snatches the knife, throwing it down the hall.

The Joker laughs, his fingers digging in the knife wound.

Bane grits his teeth against the pain.

He grabs the pale man’s neck.

His grip like a bear trap.

The Joker’s laugh, little more than wheeze, as he’s lifted from the floor by his throat.

His feet dangle the air.  The Joker’s still smiling, a playing card appears in his hand.

The Joker’s slices a deep gash in Bane’s muscled bicep.

The spray of blood hits both men. 

“GRRRR!” Bane growls in anger and pain, punching the clown in the face.

The iron grip doesn’t lessen, thick fingers crushing the pale neck.

The Joker’s still smiling—no breath left for laughing.  All he hears is the roar of blood in his head.  All he sees is Bane’s snarling face.  The face grows dimmer, darkness descending around him.

A gunshot rings out.

Bane and the Joker fall to the floor. 

 

 

On the fire escape, outside of the lab…

Batman’s eyes widened at the sound of a gunshot.  He was waiting for the Joker’s signal before entering the lab, but now that he heard gunfire all bets were off.  _The Joker might be hurt!_   He ignored the painful twinge that lodged in his chest at the thought and grabbed the metal bars above his head.  Swinging his body like a pendulum, he crashed through the lab window feet first, shards of glass flying into the room.

Crane had heard the gunshot, too.  The tall skinny man had reacted by ducking and reaching into the bottom of a cabinet.  He pulled out a canister that resembled an oxygen tank, just as he heard glass breaking behind him.  Crane leapt to his feet, the canister cradled in one arm, as he turned in the direction of the sound.  He gasped at the sight of Batman rushing toward him.  Crane grabbed the hose attached to the canister, lifting the nozzle and pointing it in Batman’s direction.

Batman was within inches of grabbing the villain, when a dense, cold cloud of yellow gas erupted from the nozzle, hitting him directly in the face.  Batman, wearing a gas mask, ignored the cool sensation the gas produced when touching the tiny areas of his face not covered by mask or cowl.  He grabbed Crane by the collar, slamming a fist into his face.  The Scarecrow screamed out in pain, dropping the canister.

“Where is Bane?” Batman growled, tightening the hold he had on Crane’s collar.  Crane responded with a hate-filled glare, a rivulet of blood trailing from the side of his mouth to his chin.  “WHERE IS HE!” Batman yelled, shaking Crane like a rag doll. 

“Do you feel it?” Crane mocked, sneering at him through blood-tinged teeth.  “My new formula doesn’t need to be inhaled to work.  Skin contact is all it takes.”

“I don’t feel anything.” Batman lied, refusing to succumb to the terror nudging at the corners of his mind.  “But you will be feeling my fists, if you don’t answer me now.”

“Liar!” Crane spat, feeling the grip on his collar loosen slightly.  Batman punched him in the stomach; his swirling mind alarmed by the lack of force behind the blow.  Crane groaned softly at the contact, returning Batman’s punch.  Batman’s grip on the skinny man faltered and Crane ripped himself from the vigilante’s grasp.  Scarecrow snatched the canister from the floor, not bothering to grab the nozzle; he slammed the canister into the side of Batman’s head.

The dark knight was stunned by the impact, stumbling backward against a counter.  The vigilante stared at his opponent, shocked to see Joe Chill pointing a gun at someone behind him.  Batman, looking back over his shoulder, saw his mother and father holding each other, a look of abject terror spread across their faces.

“NOOOO!” Batman screamed, dropping to his knees.  Feeling like a small, helpless child, he buried his face in his hands; sobbing uncontrollably.

 

Meanwhile, on the east side of the building…

The Joker was coughing and gasping for air, as he squirmed beneath Bane’s motionless body.  He felt the hefty weight being lifted from him and looked up to see Jasper’s worry-lined face.

“You alright Boss?” Jasper asked, pulling the Joker to his feet.  The Joker staggered as he rose, but felt his strength returning with every breath of air he took.

“I’ve <cough cough> lived through worse.” The Joker choked out, placing a hand on Jasper’s shoulder.  “By the way, excellent timing!” The Joker added with a weak chuckle.

“I guess my services came in handy after all.” Jasper smirked.  The Joker laughed, remembering Batman’s earlier statement on the roof. 

“Yes, quite handy indeed.” The Joker said, patting Jasper’s cheek softly.  Jasper’s face reddened at the touch; a lovesick smile curving his lips.  The tender moment was interrupted, as both men turned at the sound of heavy footsteps running toward them.  Truck’s bulky frame came into view, as he rushed around the corner into the corridor where Jasper and the Joker stood.

“I heard a gunshot.” Truck called out, trotting closer.  “You guys OK?”

“Oh, we’re fine.” The Joker chuckled darkly.  “But I’m not so sure about him.” He added, delivering a swift kick to Bane’s midsection.  The felled man grunted weakly, still motionless on the floor.  Jasper leaned over the body and cold cocked him with the butt of his pistol.  He reached beneath his blazer, pulling out a pair of handcuffs and cuffing Bane’s hands behind his back.

“I shot him in the middle of his spine.  He’s probably gone into shock.  He might awaken and regain the use of his arms, but he won’t be running off anywhere on those legs for a looong time.” Jasper explained proudly.

“Truck, you keep your eye on him, just in case.  If he makes a move, whack him upside the head.  But try not to kill him.  He may have information we need.” Joker instructed.  He turned to Jasper.  “Come with me.  This isn’t over yet.” He added with an evil grin, before turning and running down the corridor in the direction of Crane’s lab.  Jasper was right at his heels.

 

Back in the laboratory…

Crane looked down at Batman kneeling on the floor.  Amusement tugged the corners of his lips upward, as he witnessed the once powerful hero sobbing helplessly in the throes of the fear toxin’s incapacitating influence.

“I wonder…what is your greatest fear Batman?” The Scarecrow whispered wistfully.  He leaned over, believing he heard a few words between the man’s pain-wracked sobs.  “What did you say?” Crane said softly, laying a gentle hand on the crying man’s shoulder and kneeling beside him to better hear his whispered words.

The door to the lab flew open.  The Joker stood in the doorway, taking in the scene before him.  He swiftly strode into the room, grabbing Crane by the back of his collar and hauling him to his feet. 

“What are you up to, Scary?” The Joker sneered with a vicious smile.  “Don’t you know taking liberties with an inebriated person could be construed as sexual assault.”

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Scarecrow sputtered.  “I was merely trying to learn his fears.”

“Looked like you were trying to kiss him to me.” The Joker replied, flinging the skinny man to the floor.

“I-I uh,” Crane stuttered before composing himself.  “Wait, what are you doing here?” The Scarecrow challenged, with as much indignation as he could muster while leaning on his elbows with his ass on the floor.  Jasper walked over to the skinny man and planted his size 13 boot in the middle of his chest, knocking him back to the floor.

“The boss is the one asking the questions here.” Jasper barked, adding pressure to the foot on Crane’s chest.

“Okay, okay!” Crane replied, lifting his palms in surrender.  “But I already answered his question.”  He whined, stealing a glance at the canister, only inches out of his reach.  “Aaaahh!”  Crane cried out in pain, as Jasper put his full body weight on skinny man’s chest, allowing him to kick the canister across the room with his other foot.  “Wh-what are you doing!  Trying to kill me!” Crane cried.

“ _Man up_ , Scary.  I stood on your chest, like 2 seconds.  What kind of super villain _are you_?” Jasper sneered.  “Anyway, it’s your fault.  I saw you looking at that gas tank.  Just don’t get anymore bright ideas and you might get out of here alive.”

“Maybe you should hope I don’t.” The skinny man mumbled under his breath.

The Joker wasn’t paying any attention to their conversation.  He had knelt on one knee in front of his old adversary.  He placed a hand under the whimpering man’s chin, slowly lifting his head until they were at eye level.  The Joker’s brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed; as he stared at the man whose chin was trembling in his hand.  For once, the Joker wasn’t smiling.  He started to rise, and Batman reached out, grabbing him by the lapels.

“P-please, don’t hurt them.” Bruce pleaded, his quivering voice was soft and childlike.  “Don’t kill my Mommy and Daddy.” Dozens of snappy comebacks rose to the villain’s mind.  Words he used in the past, when the little ones begged for mercy— _Kid, if you knew how much college costs these days, you’d know that I’m doing them a favor._ But he couldn’t say anything now, the lump in his throat not allowing a word to get out.  He nodded mutely, pulling Bruce’s hands from his lapels and standing up.  He turned to Crane.

“How did you gas him through the mask?” The Joker asked, folding his arms and leaning back against a cabinet.

“It’s a new formula.  It activates on contact with skin.” Crane replied.

“Hmm, it worked on that little bit of exposed skin.” The Joker remarked quietly, rubbing his chin.  “It’s in that canister over there?” He asked, pointing to the metal tank Jasper had kicked.  The skinny man nodded, a worried look on his face.  The Joker walked over to the island counter in the center of the room.  “What ya cookin’ up on the Bunsen burner, Scary?” The Joker asked, peering at the neon green liquid simmering in the beaker.

“That’s Bane’s venom.”

“Is it soup yet?” The Joker chuckled.

“It needs to synthesize at least an hour more, for the venom to reach full strength.”

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?”  The Joker mumbled under his breath, lifting the beaker off the fire and flinging it against the wall.  The beaker shattered on impact, its contents a bright green splotch on the wall, lazily rolling down the painted surface to the floor.

“NO!  NOOOO!” Batman wailed, looking upward and shaking his fists in the air.  The sound of the breaking glass had sounded like gunshots to Bruce’s disoriented mind.  The tinkle of glass falling to the floor, like pearls falling to the asphalt.  Bruce crawled across the floor on all fours, stopping as he reached the vision of his dead parents, lying in a filthy alley, a pool of blood growing wider around them.  Bruce curled up into a ball; his knees beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around his calves, holding his legs tightly against his torso, as he slowly rocked back and forth.  The Joker strolled over to where Crane was lying, Jasper’s foot still pressed to his chest.

“How long is he going to be like that?” The Joker asked, staring down at man under Jasper’s foot.  Crane didn’t answer, his pale blue eyes full of malice, as he glared at the pale man.  Joker turned to Jasper, issuing a silent order.  Jasper lifted his leg from the floor, his full weight balanced on Crane’s scrawny chest.  The skinny man didn’t cry out this time, his teeth clenched tightly, beads of perspiration forming at his brow.

“Jaspy, you ever play hopscotch?”

“Sure Boss, I used to play hopscotch with my kid sister all the time.”  Jasper replied with a grin.  

“Show Scary how many times you can hop on one foot.”

“OK Boss.” Jasper answered, raising his outstretched arms to shoulder level and bending his knee.

“NO!  WAIT!” Scarecrow cried.  “I’ll tell you!  He shouldn’t be that way more than an hour, maybe only 30 minutes, everybody’s different.”  Jasper lowered his raised foot to the floor, relieving the pressure on Crane’s chest.

“Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?  Things will move along much more smoothly if you just cooperate.” Joker said, sounding like a teacher reprimanding a petulant child.

“Why are you doing this?  I did everything you asked me to.” Crane asked, that shrill, whiny tone back in his voice.  The Joker ignored the question, turning to Jasper instead.

“Grab that tank of fear gas and take it down to your car.” The Joker ordered.  Jasper nodded quickly, walking across the room and picking up the canister.  He walked toward the doorway, stopping to glance at Joker when he reached it.

“I’ll be right back.” Jasper said, holding the canister under one arm.

“No, when you’re finished, go check on Truck.  The two of you can haul Bane outside.  He should fit in the trunk of your Caddie.”

“Don’t worry boss, I’ll make him fit.” Jasper replied with a sly grin, walking out of the room.

“Answer me!” Crane demanded, raising himself to his feet and brushing off his clothes.  “Why are you doing this?  I kept my end of the deal.  I got you the formula for the Colossus virus.”

“And I got you out of Arkham, but releasing Bane wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I had no choice.  I had to offer him something to get the formula.”

“What’s done is done.” The Joker huffed.  “Now get out of here.  You’ve got two seconds. One—”

“I’m going!”  Crane shouted, running out the door.  The Joker walked over to Batman.  He knelt down and cradled the sobbing man in his arms; both of them slowly rocking together.

“The things I do for love.” The Joker whispered, wryly.

 

 

 

 

 


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

The Joker sat on the edge of the bed, a deep line forming between his furrowed brow, as he looked down at the sleeping man.  _It’s been more than an hour.  Why is he still out of it?_   He reached out, brushing a lock of damp hair from Bruce’s forehead.  At his touch, something between a whimper and a grunt slid from the hero’s parted lips.  Bruce’s blue eyes, bright but unfocused, flickered open. 

“Brucey?” The Joker whispered, not sure if the effects of the fear toxin had worn off.  The blank stare he received in response, did little to relieve the anxiety gnawing at the pit of his gut.  _Why is it taking him so long to fight off the toxin?_   “Get it together, man!” The Joker cried, slapping Bruce across the face.

“Wh-what the hell?” Batman sputtered, his hand rising to his reddened cheek, recognition dawning in his eyes.  “Joker!” Batman growled, springing up in the bed, his hands going for the clown’s thin neck.  Then he saw it, the bruising circling the pale man’s neck like a collar.  The hero’s hands dropped to his side.  He moved closer, inspecting the cruel smudges of black, purple, and blue displayed on his adversary’s throat like a child’s clumsy watercolor on a white canvas. 

Memories of the last few hours flooded Bruce’s muddled mind.  He shook his head in confusion, trying to gather his jumbled thoughts.   _The last thing I remember he is punching Crane in the face._   He turned to the Joker.

“What happened?  I was in Crane’s lab.  How did I get here?  Where is here?” Bruce asked, the questions flying from his mouth in a quick-fire stream of consciousness, as he stared at his unfamiliar surroundings.  His confusion grew, as he noticed he and the Joker were wearing nothing but their underwear.

“Whoa!  One question at a time!”  The Joker laughed, lifting his open palms.  “Crane fear-gassed you.”  The clown’s smile fell, as he gently placed a hand on Bruce’s shoulder.  “Had me worried there, Batsy.  You were totally out of it.  So, I brought you here.  Welcome, to my ha-hacienda.” The villain grinned, sweeping his arm in a wide arc.  Bruce’s eyes followed the gesture, taking in the cluttered room with clothes, papers, and various weapons scattered across the floor.  Fortunately, he could also see his Batsuit folded neatly on a chair.

“You live here?” Bruce asked.  There must have been something in the sound of Bruce’s voice, because the Joker’s eyes narrowed, a scowl forming on his lips.

“Hey, don’t go all prissy rich boy on me.” The Joker sneered, folding his arms.  “I know it’s no Wayne manor, but it keeps the rain off my back.”

“I-I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it like that.” Bruce quickly stammered, tentatively touching the other man’s elbow.  “It’s just…it’s just, I don’t think I’ve ever been in your bedroom before.”

“Y’know, I think you’re right.  I guess tonight is a night for a lot of _firsts_.” The Joker chuckled, a smile finally returning to his lips and amusement dancing in his eyes.  Bruce felt his face grow warm at the comment.

“What happened with Crane and Bane?” Batman asked, steering the conversation in a new direction.

“ _BANE!_ ” Joker spat, contemptuously.  “That loco hombre tried to kill me!  _AGAIN!_ ” Joker added, lifting his chin, his fingertips gingerly touching his discolored throat.  He leaned toward Bruce, showing off his bruises.  “I think you need to kiss it and make it better.” He pouted in a childlike voice, complete with big puppy dog eyes.  Bruce sighed loudly, halfheartedly shoving the Joker away. 

“You’ll survive.  What happened to Bane?”

“Jasper shot him.” The Joker replied matter-of-factly.  Bruce’s eyes grew wide.

“He killed him?”

“Noooo, he only shot him once.  The doctors at Arkham should be able to patch him up.”

“He’s back in Arkham?”

“He’s either there or on his way.  I had him dropped off at the GCPD.”

“Are you sure they got him?  That he didn’t get away?  I should call Gordon.”

“Go ahead, but I doubt he got away.  He won’t be getting anywhere, not on those legs.”

“He was shot in the legs?”                                                                    

“No, the lower spine.  You know how it works.  The tailbone’s connected to the hip bone and the hip bone’s connected to the thigh bone—”

“He’s paralyzed?” Bruce interjected, worry lines creasing his forehead.

“Only from the waist down.” The Joker flippantly replied, before turning to Bruce and giving him a hard look.  “Nothing you haven’t done.” Bruce’s gaping mouth snapped shut at the comment.  He knew it was true.  Bruce was silent for a few moments, looking down forlornly.    He’d never intended to permanently maim the small-time hood.  _But I did._   He silently commiserated.

“Hey, don’t be going all melancholy on me.” The Joker chuckled, nudging Bruce’s side with his elbow.  “Bane tried to kill us both, _remember_?  Aaand, he’s not dead.” Bruce nodded, taking a deep breath.  _What’s done is done.  I can’t change the past._

“What about Crane?” Batman asked, an odd hoarseness to his voice.  The Joker stood up, his back to his companion, as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Oh him?  He pumped you full of Scary juice and skedaddled.”  

“You let him get away?” Bruce asked, the accusation plain in his words.  The Joker turned to him, fire raging in his narrowed eyes.

“I, _I_ let him get away?” The Joker snapped, slapping his palm on his chest with indignation.  “ _Well excuuuse me_ , but you were there, too.  Why didn’t _you_ get him?” The Joker challenged, poking a finger in Batman’s chest.  The pale man folded his arms and glared at the man on the bed.  “Oh, that’s right.  You were too busy sitting on your ass, crying like a little bat-bitch!” Joker spat; his words causing Bruce to flinch. 

“You’re right.  It was my fault.”  The chastened hero mumbled; his head hung low.  The Joker bit back a smile.  _God, him and his hero complex.  So easy to manipulate._ The Joker mused.  But as Joker looked down at the troubled man, he was surprised to feel stirrings of guilt tugging at his gut.  He sat back down on the bed, placing an arm over Bruce’s shoulder.

“Stop beating yourself up.  You’re not responsible for everything that goes wrong in this city.” The Joker told him softly, gently massaging the distraught man’s shoulder.  “At least you try.  That’s more than I can say for most of the worthless sheep in the city.”  He placed a hand under Bruce’s chin, lifting his head and meeting his eyes.  “And you do succeed…most of the time.  And the city’s better for it.”

Bruce stared at him, startled by the sincerity he saw in the pale man’s eyes.  It was the first time the man praised his crime-fighting crusade without mockery or ire in his voice.  Somehow, hearing it from the Joker’s lips touched him more deeply than all the accolades he’d received in the past.  He leaned over, giving the villain a soft grateful kiss.  As he began to pull away, he felt long, slender fingers weaving through his hair, holding him in place.    

“Don’t fret Batsy, we’ll find him…together.” The Joker whispered against his lips, before deepening their kiss.  The Joker’s mouth moved against his; firm, demanding and utterly intoxicating.  The Joker’s hand slid down his torso, reaching the band of his briefs and slipping inside.  Bruce gasped, as he felt the cool hand encircling his manhood.  He closed his eyes; his thoughts dissolving, as he surrendered himself to the passion, to the pleasure, to the man who had become his obsession. 

Bruce felt as if a weight was being lifted from his shoulders.  He didn’t feel alone.  He had the baddest motherfucker in Gotham at his side.  He knew they were a team that nothing in this hellish city could best.  A voice in his big head warned him that he was thinking with his little head; that he was ignoring all the flashing red warning signs.  He told the voice to shut the fuck up, as he succumbed to the burning desires the villain ignited within him.

“Oooh, yesss!” Batman hissed, as he felt the warm wetness of the Joker’s mouth encircling his cock.  It felt magnificent and Bruce buried his fingers in the pale man’s hair, urging him onward.  The Joker obliged, taking in every inch of Bruce’s throbbing beast.  Bruce thought it could not possibly feel better, but the Joker was just getting started.  The hero gasped at the touch of a slickened finger on the tight ring of muscles at his ass.  He grunted in surprise, as the finger slipped inside him, moving in and out in rhythm with the head bobbing on his cock.

The dual sensations were glorious, and Bruce tightened his grasp on the villain’s hair, as the suction on his shaft increased.  He felt his muscles stretching, as a second finger joined the first.  The mild pain the second breach invoked, dissolved into pleasure when the fingers curled, massaging the sensitive nerve endings inside him.

“So good!  It feels sooo good!” Bruce moaned, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.  The Joker deftly used his free hand to release his own swollen shaft, coating it with lubricant.  There was a wet pop, as the Joker lifted his head from Batman’s dick.  Bruce opened his eyes to see villain’s grinning face moving toward his.  Bruce unconsciously licked his lips, as Joker came closer, displaying the blood tingeing his lips and teeth.  Bruce felt his cock switch at the sight.  He used the grip he had on the Joker’s hair to pull the man toward him; their lips colliding in a savage kiss.

The taste of the pale man’s blood on his tongue, whipped Bruce into a frenzy, as he sought to capture every succulent drop.  The rush of endorphins surging through his bloodstream sent him into a state of delicious delirium.  There was no pain as the third digit slid into his ass.  Instead Bruce began thrusting against intrusion, forcing it deeper inside him.

The Joker broke off their kiss, biting his tongue a second time, rejuvenating the flow of blood.  The blood oozed lazily from his lips, a single scarlet drop falling into Bruce’s open mouth.

“More.” Bruce whined, trying to pull the clown’s lips to his.  The Joker resisted, grinning at the man beneath him.

“I’ll give you more…more of everything.” The Joker chuckled, pulling his fingers from Bruce’s ass and nudging at the tight ring of muscles with his cock.  Bruce was about to protest, but the Joker silenced him with a blood-soaked kiss, slamming his dick in Bruce’s hole.  The pain Bruce expected never came.  To the contrary, Bruce moaned blissfully, as the villain’s thrust hit all the right places.  The Joker’s blood the perfect anesthetic-aphrodisiac.  Blocking the pain, while heightening the delightful sensations.

For the Joker, it was heaven on earth; a dream made real.  Batman’s hot hungry hole taking every inch of him, meeting his every thrust.  His greedy ass seemingly unable to get enough of the Joker’s delicious dick.  The Joker rolled his hips as he took him, driving the hero wild.  The rapturous sounds pouring from Bruce’s lips, were a sensuous symphony to the Joker’s ears.  It was almost too much for the Joker to bear.  It was too sweet, too detectable for mere words to describe.  The Joker stopped moving, still buried deep inside his lover.  He knew he would lose it if he took one more stroke.  He grabbed Bruce’s cock, capturing it in his firm grasp.  With the skill of a master contortionist, the Joker curved his body like a pretzel and lapped at the salty juices oozing from Bruce’s slit.  Bending even further, his mouth devoured the swollen head, his lips hugging the hardy helmet of flesh, his tongue dancing madly across it.

Bruce’s eyes rolled back in his head, as the Joker began thrusting into him again; his cock still in the pale man’s mouth.  It was unbelievably intense, unbearably divine.  He screamed the Joker’s name, riding on rollicking waves of ecstasy, as his hot load painted the villain’s throat.

The Joker greedily swallowed every delectable drop, as he felt the hero’s tight cavity clenching around his cock.  The squeeze of Bruce’s sweet ass catapulted the Joker over the edge with the force of a star going nova.  He felt as if his entire body was gushing out his dick, as he buried his shooting shaft deep inside the Bat.

Totally spent, both men laid motionless; their bodies still connected.  Their shared afterglow like a calming, comforting embrace.  

                                                                    

**Author's Note:**

> Your comments are important to me. ♬ Good or bad, they’re like music to my ears. ♬


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